


31 Women of One Piece

by nocturneequuis



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:48:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturneequuis/pseuds/nocturneequuis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles and ficlets with an autumn or Halloweenish theme featuring and starring the women of One Piece. Numerous pairings will likely abound. Requests are taken into consideration. But mostly it's a celebration of what we have and what is yet to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Are Sweet, Some Are Sour, All Are Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rika does not have a crush on Coby, no matter what her mother may think. She does however have a complex friendship. And she doesn’t like to see him sad. Even if she only has her words to cheer him up, She will do her best.

Shells Town was peeking with color as Rika walked home, the jar of umeboshi swinging back and forth from the canvas bag that dangled from her arm. Even though autumn had barely started, the trees were starting to change, yellow and red leaves peering out from the green. In maybe a few weeks everything would be alive and sparkling with color and Mama and her would get to decorate the restaurant. The pumpkins this year were supposed to be big and she couldn’t wait.

Maybe even… they would come back.

Coby had said he would try. They might rendezvous with certain important people in the East Blue, and if they did, they’d stop in to say hi. She hoped they did. It had been two years. But probably not. Rika sighed, entering the house and toeing off her shoes in the entrance.

“I’m home!” she called automatically.

“Welcome home,” Mama said, leaning out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “You’ve got a letter.”

A letter? Rika peered at Mama carefully. She got a lot of letters. Mostly because she liked to write to her Marines who had been stationed away from home or were on a long trip out at sea. She always liked to remind them of Shells Town so that they wouldn’t forget to come back one day. And the Commander had said they all really appreciated them. Lots of times they wrote her back and told her how homesick they were, or what adventures or heartbreak sometimes.

So a letter was not worth mentioning. Usually Mama put them on her desk. But that Mama had to bring it up meant it was an important letter. And the fond smile Mama was wearing said that she thought Rika would be extra cute any moment now.

So it must be from him.

Rika felt color rise to her cheeks at what Mama must be thinking and Mama’s smile widened.

“Go on up and take a look,” Mama said, her eyes crinkling. “I can handle the store myself a little while.”

“I don’t have to read it now!” Rika said, just to make her mama stop thinking what Rika knew she was thinking. It wasn’t like that! Not at all!

“Go on,” Mama said again, flapping the towel. “Letters like that shouldn’t wait.” And then she floated back to the kitchen, laughing under her breath as if Rika couldn’t hear. Rika wished she was little enough to stamp her foot. It really wasn’t like that! Even if her stomach was doing the floaty little butterfly thing. It was only because she hadn’t heard from Coby in months. He was a friend. They had a complex relationship.

“Mou,” Rika said to herself, and twisted her head away, snubbing her mother’s ideas and felt better about it as she went up the narrow stairs to her bedroom at the top. The window was open because it wasn’t that cold outside and a small breeze rustled the tree right outside, yellow leaves blinking at her from the green. Rika realized with annoyance that she still had the jar of umeboshi and set it beside the unopened letter, sitting on her desk. She wouldn’t open it right away. She didn’t need to.

She pulled the handkerchief from her hair and folded it onto the bureau, then hunted for her fuzzy house slippers. Then turned her head to snub her mother’s ideas again and pulled her hair out of the pigtails to brush it out. All the while all the while the letter stared at her in its plain white official envelope, her name written in a good hand with flowy cursive and loops that Rika hadn’t perfected yet. It was because he studied so hard. She’d wrapped up his hands once when they’d bled and made him a special tea to make them not hurt so much. It would have been good, too, if all the chocolate hadn’t cemented at the bottom. The pepper probably hadn’t been a great idea either.

Finally there was nothing to do but read. Rika sat at the table… but as one final act of not caring all _that_ much, twisted open the jar of umeboshi and popped a pickled plum in her mouth. Ahh! Sour! She couldn’t help but make a face, chewing quickly around the pit before spitting that into the trashcan and swallowing the wet slick skin.

After it had gone down, the not so sour taste of good umeboshi remained in her mouth and she sucked the juice off her fingers, then wiped them on her skirt so she wouldn’t stain the letter. Then, very slowly, she opened it.

 

_Dear Rika,_

It said.

_We were able to receive the onigiri you sent us! Though that_ _’s probably the limit of how far you can send them, and unfortunately, we’ll be going much further than that pretty soon._

But they’d gotten them! So that was the important thing! Rika sucked on her lower lip and absently got another umeboshi from the jar. Ouwww Sour!

_They were really unique. Helmeppo and I really enjoyed them. But maybe you should take out the cherry pits first. Still Helmeppo is well recovered and the vice captain of B squad doesn_ _’t resent getting a cherry pit to the hair. Well, not substantially anyway._

Oops. Rika felt her cheeks pink again and curled an ankle around her chair. She had meant to leave the pits in, of course, but only because she’d read in some old book that swallowing cherry pits made you strong and warded off disease. Maybe not. She’d have to make them something different when…when they were close enough again. Rika spit out the umeboshi pit into the trashcan, sucked on her fingers, and read on.

The next lines made her heart sink, even though she was expecting them. She sighed and rested her chin in her hands, trying not to be too disappointed.

_It doesn_ _’t seem like we’ll be able to visit this year. I’m sorry. We really wanted to, but things have been happening. Really big things everywhere. More and more, it seems, the world is being shaken up and I like to think that guy is involved somehow. We hear his name even more these days. Mostly in awe or hatred. I don’t think people understand him really. Maybe I don’t either. But I like to think I know what he isn’t._

That guy was their code for Luffy. She remembered him a little, even though two years seemed a lifetime ago. She remembered how he’d caught her and how he’d laughed and his big hands and his yellow hat. Coby liked him a lot, though and spoke of him often. She didn’t mind, really. She liked hearing about him. But she wished he’d speak more of Zoro.

Feeling a little guilty, Rika opened the top drawer of her desk and moved aside a few pages of school work Mama had set to her to reveal Zoro’s wanted poster. It was an old one now, but it was the only one she had and the only one she could sneak. He was always covered in blood. She knew he must not have been at some point that he was here, but she always sees him in blood and shadow in her mind’s eye. Always looking up, standing over her, with the light on his blades.

It had made her want to be blood and shadow and swords herself! And she still thought of it sometimes, standing and defending the weak with a bandanna and two swords, ready to dispense justice with a cool silence. And then she could meet him again one day and he give her a really cool not and say how proud—

“Rika-chan?” Mother’s voice came up the stairs and Rika shut the desk drawer quickly, her face flaming.

“Yes, Mama?”

“The changing of the guard is in about fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, Mama.” 

In fifteen minutes the guys from the base would come down for lunch and Rika had to be there. She had some new recipies to try and they were always willing— almost always willing to eat anything once.

Feeling another wash of guilt, Rika picked the letter back up, moving to sit by the window so the cool breeze would wash over her face. Coby wrote on, talking about various things “that guy” might have been involved in, but always in the vaguest of ways. She could never really tell what was going on but could use her imagination, so it normally didn’t matter. But sometimes she wondered if he was talking to himself rather than her. Like he couldn’t think these thoughts aloud but had to tell them to someone. She couldn’t help but feel a little left out about it.

But soon enough, as he began to talk about day to day life.  Rika relaxed a little more, imagining him being embarrassed as thankful citizens tried to give him flowers or butter… or the way the sea looked from the top of the Red Line, ruffling and blue in both directions, spotted with white, containing the world and unknown adventure.  She felt her heart soar just by thinking about it! But it was kind of scary, too. Like standing on a cliff and looking at the waves below and knowing how fun it would be to dive into the deep blue, but knowing you could be smashed up against the rocks and remembering the people who had died there before doing the exact same thing. … But remembering the people that lived and had come back excited to do it again. It was more exciting than any kind of silly crush, and more frightening.

 

_Though things have gotten more difficult lately. I wonder at my own resolve._

Coby said and Rika frowned. He had been saying things like this a lot more lately and she was never sure what to think about them.

 

_I want to do what is right. I want to uphold Justice. It_ _’s not as easy to understand as I thought. How can I know if I’m doing the right thing? How can I know if I’m turning into them?_

 

Them… Rika shifted and rested her chin on the windowsill, absently chasing the fading taste of umeboshi around her mouth with her tongue as she peered through the rustling branches at the Marine Headquarters.

Them.

Those guys who worked at the Marine Base.

Her friends now. The people who tried her food and were really nice and kind to her— and at first it had been to make up for when things were really really bad.

She had hated them once, she remembered. And even after, when she’d asked the commander why they had done such horrible things, he’d said they didn’t feel it was right to say no. She had accepted it then. But now she understood that Marine life was a complicated one. Should you always say yes when your Commander told you to do things? Of course, was the answer. Even if those things might be bad?

And to that there was no answer.

Or no answer she could imagine. It was all tangled into too many knots she didn’t understand yet.

 

 _Anyway,_ Coby said. _Don_ _’t worry about me._

He always said that, too. And Rika did worry but didn’t reply because she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to say now. Rika tucked her knees up to her chest. She _wanted_ to help him, though. She wanted to help him feel good about what he was doing. But how? Even cherry onigiri without the the pits in wasn’t going to help. She thought hard. The wind stirred through the branches in whispers and something brushed against her leg. Thinking it was some hapless spider, Rika looked down and saw two leaves settle across the bed, yellow and green, joined at the bottom. She picked the leaves up and twirled them, smelled them deeply and then nibbled on the end of the green one to see if it was tasty enough to put into onigiri.

It had potential.

But more than that, it gave her an idea. Maybe it was dumb and maybe it wouldn’t help but…

Rika carried the leaves and letter to the desk, eating a third umeboshi as she pulled out her stars and onigiri stationary. Taking a feather quill, she fought past the flush of embarrassment. Her handwriting wasn’t nearly as good and she didn’t know big words off the tip of her tongue like: ‘substantially’. She wasn’t even sure she could spell something like that.

But she would do it anyway. Even if it was scary.

 

 _Dear Coby_.

She wrote.

Who I do _not_ have a crush on, she added mentally.

_I am sending these leafs because I think they might taste good in onigiri. Maybe they will and maybe they won_ _’t but if they don’t I can try again with something else._

She sucked on another umeboshi in thought, wincing at the taste, then continued.

 _I want to make good onigiri to make people happy. And for it to be Beautiful. Your Justice is the same. You are doing what you think is good and I know because Like you believe in That Guy I believe in You._ She underlined this a few times and then added a few flowers so it wouldn’t look so harsh like she was yelling at him.

_Because it_ _’s harder with peoples lifes but you do the hard things and don’t they taste sweet in the end?_

She wasn’t sure if that made sense… But he had done the hard thing of helping Zoro out. And the hard hard practicing of being a Marine. And he’d even stood up to higher ups to save Helmeppo! The Commander had told her so. She bet he had done many more hard things besides, which made her want to do hard things too, no matter how sour they tasted in the beginning. She spit the pit into the trashcan.

 _I know you will be great. Substantially great._ She underlined the big word, too, after painstakingly copying Coby’s handwriting, trying her best to get in every last swirl.

_And I  want to be Great too. So that I can stand up with you._

 

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she liked the sound of it and nodded to herself, adding a little flower with diamond petals.

Mother called her name again from downstairs. It was almost time to go. She wasn’t sure what else to say right now but she didn’t like to leave anything half finished— so if she thought of anything else she’d write another letter and stuff it in with the first.

 

_So Please don_ _’t be sad. It will be okay._

_Your friend, Rika_

And then as an afterthought.

 

_P. S. Please send new  posters if there are them. Of him and his friend too so I can have a matched set. Thank you._

She felt kind of bad about the lie. She didn’t really care about the matched set all that much.

Rika read hurridly over her letter, then, deciding it was enough, tucked it away in her drawer for now and took herself and the umeboshi down to the kitchen that opened up into the shop where Mama was waiting. Mama handed her her apron, smiling wide.

“Isn’t your face red, Rika-chan.”

“It’s just because of the wind, Mama,” Rika said, turning her head to the side but allowing Mama to tie her apron strings nice and tight.

“Oh, of course. I’m sure,” Mama said in the voice that said she was sure of something else entirely. Rika huffed. But there was no time for huffing as she could hear singing voices as the guards tromped toward their shop. Rika hurriedly went to the little onigiri station Mama had set up for her and began to make spinach and orange onigiri so it would be nice and warm and ready for them when they walked in the door.

Maybe it would be good, maybe it would be gross.

But either way it would be Great.

 


	2. Lay of the Lantern Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keimi has never been fond of the spooky spirit of Lantern Night. But when she gets an interesting request, will she find a way to reconcile the feelings she'd had for the spirit since childhood? Or will she learn something entirely new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the same "canon" as [A Miracle to Light the Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2705831/chapters/6152150) and [ Child of Hope](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2705831/chapters/6649880)

Keimi pushed the last pin in place, and nudged back a bit to examine her work. It was… alright. The construction itself was good, she prided herself on her ability to fit almost any client. The bodice of the dress had support where it needed it, hidden with swags that were only the tiniest bit droopy. The waist was tight with a glass pearl seeded belt to compliment Mme. U’s smallness there, and from there the dress belled out to hide the Fishwoman’s, perhaps, chubby tentacles underneath. The fabric itself was overlaid with a shiny material, covered in tiny sequins and mirrors that— didn’t have as much pattern as she would like. Though her fingers still ached from the doing of it.

It was a little above amatuerish at best, though that’s what Mme. U had paid for and, Keimi hoped, had expected. Though it did have above average flow if she did say so herself. In the water, Mme. U would look like an unfurling— if maybe somewhat garish flower. Out of the water, it would drape and flow like the fountain in the middle of a square, she assumed. It was just… the color. Something was off about it and Keimi had been working weeks on it without figuring out what it was.

She sighed and sat on the worktable opposite, waving her tail back and forth absently. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried. She had, going on for two weeks now. Pappug had said maybe it was beyond her skill level right now, and it certainly wasn’t part of Crimin’s style of “Cool Comfort in Any Sea”. She had just wanted to see if she could do it, but now, she wasn’t so sure. But the masque ball for Lantern Night was in a week and she couldn’t let Mme. U down now. That was a pretty prestigious event, even if it was a kid’s holiday, and she knew Mme. U had just barely been able to afford the ticket. Maybe she would ask Pappug. There had to be something she was missing.

But that was for tomorrow. Right now her eyes were bleary and it was late. She had to be at the Mermaid Cafe tomorrow early to deal with the rush of people wanting to see their cute new costumes that changed daily. Lantern Night was almost more like Lantern Week, but she enjoyed it for the most part. If only she wasn’t so tired.

Keimi carefully wrapped up the dress, then tidied up the work room. Pappug was already asleep in the basket, tucked next to the semi-traditional tobasco filled bubble used to keep the Lantern Lady away. Keimi smiled and brushed her finger over the bubble’s surface. Only kids really carried them, and not so much these days, but when she was little, her mother had made sure to give her one every day of the week, even if she wasn’t going out at night. It had been filled with tobasco rather than the usual sugar water, to give it a little more kick, mother had said. Keimi couldn’t say if she felt safer or not, but she always felt warmer.

She kept that warm feeling with her as she squeezed into her bubble and went up into the shop proper. It had gotten dark since she’d been in there. Close to eleven actually. Not that it was too dark here— not compared to Mermaid Cove at night, but it was dark enough to make going through the decorated shop a little spooky. It wasn’t too decorated, Lantern Night was for kids after all, and mostly it was just glowing ghost crabs wired to the mannequins and one or two skeletons made of wood wearing the latest styles.

But it was the figure in the center of the shop that creeped her out. At least at night. The Lantern Lady. In a young Fishwoman form, true, to best display the shirt and hip hugging jeans, (all black of course) but her face was that of an Angler Fish. Pulled back and almost skeletal. Her red eyes made to glow, which was a nice effect in the day time and positively chilling at night. The lantern that dangled from her antennae glowed faintly, enough to illuminate her bone white teeth and the raised crooked hand, used for taking souls to fill it with.

“Not tonight, Lantern-chin,” Keimi murmured, reminding herself of the presence of the bubble, and also to not be afraid of mannequins.

The chill remained with her anyway, especially as she left the safety of the shop and into the too quiet night. The beads of water drying on her skin didn’t help any and she shuddered as one slipped down the back of her neck. The Lantern Woman wasn’t real, she told herself.

If she was real, there really would be a looming presence behind her and not just one Keimi imagined, accompanied by the sound of deep breaths, like there really…really seemed to be. But of course that was impossible. She pulled the key from the lock and absently dropped it right on Pappug who grunted but didn’t wake up. She would— she would turn around and the Lantern Woman wouldn’t be there.

Because if she _was_ there, there would be a soft:

“Ahem,” in a voice that was almost too sweet for such a horrible face.

And if the Lantern Lady _did_ exist, the next step would be a _huge finger sliding down her back_

Keimi shrieked, arching. The bubble was in her hand before she knew it and she whipped around, every hair standing on end as she screamed:

“ _No way, Lantern Lady!_ ” and whacked the bubble upward as hard as she could with her tail… where it splatted in the distant face of…

Princess Shirahoshi.

“Oh,” Keimi said. So not the Lantern Woman at all! What a relief. Keimi put a hand to her chest and let out a low breath. She nearly had a heart attack. Shirahoshi blinked down at her, face half hidden by the gloom but enough to see a tiny line of red from the tobasco sauce slide down into the corner of her eye. Immediately the princess then reared back, covering her face.

“IYAAAAAA!” the princess screamed. The princess— The _Princess_!

“IYAAA THE PRINCESS!” Keimi screamed. Oh no! What had she done?!

“IYAAA IT HURTS!”

“IYAAA I’M SORRY!”

“What’s going on?” Pappug said, sitting up, and not a second later they were surrounded by spears leveled at them by stern faced guards.

“IYAA WE’RE IN TROUBLE!” Pappug screamed, clinging to her neck. Keimi hugged him tightly and squeezed her eyes shut. She was too young to go to prison! Should she be like a pirate and run away? No that might get her into even more trouble! Why had she let her imagination run away with her.

“What have you done to the princess?” one of the guards demanded. Before Keimi could even think of what to stammer out, Shirahoshi spoke.

“I-it’s alright,” the princess said and Keimi cautiously opened her eyes. “I-I’m fine, really,” the princess continued despite her teary red eyes and snot dripping from her nose. She blinked hard and blew her nose in the handkerchief a worried Megalo handed her.

“I’m sorry, Shirahoshi-sama,” Keimi said, lifting a hand in an unconscious gesture to touch her in apology. “I-I thought you were trying to collect my soul.”

“It’s okay,” Shirashoshi said, sniffing and dabbing at her eye. “I should have said something but I— I didn’t want to scare you.” She laughed weakly.

“You nearly scared me to death!” Keimi said and couldn’t help but giggle herself.

“I can tell, your hair is still standing up,” Shirahoshi said with a laugh.

“It must look awful!” Keimi said, somehow finding it just as funny. She could have been in a lot of trouble if she’d died before finishing Mme. U’s dress! Pappug was suddenly in her face, pushing her cheeks together with his starfishy limbs.

“What are you laughing at?! We’re in serious trouble right here!”

“Oh, no,” Shirahoshi said, coming to loom over them and petting the guards’ shoulders with her large fingers. “Oh, please, it’s alright. I’m fine. There’s no harm done. I just wanted to talk to her.” She looked at Keimi then with large anxious eyes. “I-if you have the time that is.”

“Of course!” Keimi said with a smile, removing Pappug from her face. She always had time for visitors. “Would you like to have some tea with me?”

“I’d love that,” Shirahoshi said with a radiant smile.

*******

 

It didn’t occur to Keimi until she’d gone inside the dormitory that the Princess would be unable to fit in the door. And then it took a few panicked moments to find something for Shirahoshi to use as a teacup— but somehow they’d managed. Keimi sat on her above above neighbor’s balcony to be at eye level with the princess as Shirahoshi settled on the ravine floor, sipping tea from a still a bit too tiny teacup. It was fairly dark here , not true dark, but dark enough with no street lights to speak of. But lights from the windows of curious neighbors shone warm on Shirahoshi’s skin and schools of glowing fish wove curiously through her hair which drifted with the current. She was beautiful, Keimi thought, with a pride she didn’t normally feel at all. The most beautiful mermaid in the ocean.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” Shirahoshi said, finally looking at her— her eye still a little red.

“It’sokay,” Kiemi said cheerfully. At least not now. “I’m glad not to be in prison.”

“You should say it’s no trouble at all!” Pappug said, smacking her on the head, and she bowed her head in apology. She was two for two with princesses tonight.

“It’s alright. I’m glad you’re not, too.” Shirahoshi looked down, resting her teacup on her lap. “I…wanted to ask you a favor but… it might be a little silly.”

Ask her a favor? Keimi couldn’t imagine why. She wasn’t really anyone that could do something for a member of royalty! Well, of course she had hopes and dreams to do something like that one day but…

“It’s nothing. Of course I’ll do my best,” Kiemi said, because what else could she do? Hopefully it was something she _could_ do.

“You don’t have to, just if you want. It’s just…” Shirahoshi raised her head, shoulders moving in a sigh. “I don’t have anyone I know that’s not royal except you. Or part of the court. And I— I really” she blinked rapidly as if she was going to cry again and Keimi sincerely hoped she wouldn’t. “I really want to see Lantern Night!” Shirahoshi turned to her, gripping the balcony with a few large fingers. “I’ve never seen it before. I know I’m a little old but I don’t want to interrupt them, I just want to see what happens. It sounds so interesting! And… and a part of everyone…” Shirahoshi went quiet at that, as if she was afraid Keimi was going to say no. But of course, Keimi wouldn’t. In fact, she felt relieved. Lantern Night was something even a baby could handle so long as they were strong enough to hold up the light. 

“I’d be happy to help” Keimi said, cheerfully. “I’ll even make you a costume!”

“Really?” Shirahoshi said, sounding breathless and adorable. She was so cute! Keimi wanted to put her in something a little more flashy right away. Maybe with a lot of frills. Or something stylishly cool that would make her cuteness stand out all the more. Warm and cold were best. But this was a costume so she wouldn’t get carried away.

“Are you sure it’s okay, Keimi-chan?” Pappug asked, sounding concerned. She wasn’t sure what he could be worried about, but it didn’t really matter. She said she would do it and she would do it. After all, her princess would be counting on her.

“It will be fine. Anyway, you can’t do Lantern Night without a costume right?”

“O-oh! I suppose so!” Shirashoshi said, smiling radiantly even as she knuckled away a tear. “Thank you so much. Can I— Can I choose the costume?”

“Yes, of course!” Keimi said, clapping her hands together eagerly. “What do you want to be?” What kind of costume could the princess want? Something elegant maybe? Something cute? Keimi could imagine the color palette now. Or something close to it. She’d have to tweak it a little here and there probably in the process, but Shirahoshi would look excellent in cute. Or maybe a blend of the two.

“I want to be the Lantern Lady,” Shirahoshi said, her own face carrying Keimi’s enthusiasm.

“Okay! That’ll be great!” Yes! The-- Wait... “EEHH SERIOUSLY?!

 *******

 

This was a problem. A big problem. Lantern Night was four days away and she’d barely gotten started. Not only was Mme. U’s dress still needing a lot of work—  Keimi rested her cheek against the bulk of the dress as she looked once more at the yards and yards of black fabric covering nearly every table. It was every black in the shop, and some she’d bought with her own small savings. It was enough, even if only just.

She wouldn’t get to make the costume as grandiose as she’d like but… but… she sighed. The Lantern Lady was such a boring subject. It was okay if Shirahoshi wanted it. Of course it was! Though she hadn’t insisted it be creepy thankfully— Keimi was sure that she would get in some kind of trouble for making the princess uncute. Still, She couldn’t make it look like she wanted. No matter how she mixed and matched the swatches, black was just black was just black. And there was so much of it! She knew it was just a Lantern Night costume and no one would see it anyway, but if Princess Shirahoshi was going to wear it, it should be better than good.

And then there was this thing.

Keimi wrinkled her nose at the dress that she _had_ been making. She’d redone it three times since then, and…it was a disaster. A complete mess. There were either too many spangles or not enough. The color was wrong, the color was too much or muted. Where was the balance. What would make it click? Mme. U was going to be so unhappy with her if she didn’t fix it and yet, nothing she did seemed to work.

She laid across the table, resting her cheek on a roll of fabric and frowned at the dress, and the fabric beyond it. To top it all off she was so tired. Today had been Cutie-chan Candy day at the Mermaid Cafe, and that had been so popular Keimi hadn’t even been able to leave until closing time, watching the others drift off to their the dormitory and longing to join them. She wanted her soft bed even now and the water pressure that was just right and her small kitchen and her comfy shirt that she slept in. But she had to get Mme. U’s dress just right and as for Princess Shirahoshi…

Keimi sighed and closed her eyes. This was terrible. It was no good. No good at all.

There was the faint tap of starfish feet on the table and Pappug patted her cheek.

“Are you sure you’re not taking on too much?” he asked. She couldn’t answer right away because no, she wasn’t sure. She was in mud over her head. But—

“I’m fine,” Keimi said, pushing herself up. “I’m cute and I’m determined.” Both of which were important. Even if she collapsed, so long as it was on the day after Lantern Night, she didn’t mind. It was her pride on the line, after all! Her pride and her promise to do the best that she could. Pappug was frowning at her, but then his lip stiffened, too.

“Okay, then I’ll help.”

As if he hadn’t been helping all this time.

Still, Keimi smiled at him, then draped the tape measure over her shoulders, stuck the pins between her lips and tackled Mme. U’s dress once more. The Lantern Lady could wait for now. With Pappug at her side, they would get this dress finished in no time.

*******

 

Three days away and Keimi was almost ready to let the Lantern Lady have her soul. She could feel the creature looming in the piles of black cloth, still uncut, though at least there were patterns on them now. Ugly, uninspired patterns. Though it was still so many layers of black on black that Kiemi couldn’t be satisfied. How could she. Shirahoshi had to look better than a blot of accidental inking. That would just be embarrassing.

Mme. U’s dress sat in pieces, too. Torn apart once more because of a fatal error she’d found on the bodice. If Mme. U moved just the wrong way— well it wouldn’t _all_ go but Mme. U would be very embarrassed and Kiemi’s career would be over. She wondered right now if she cared.

Well of course she did, she reminded herself dully. This was her ambition after all. But as she sat there with the cup of coffee between her hands, her third one this hour, she wondered if it was, after all, worth it. Her fingers were numb and everything was in tatters and Cutie-chan Maid day had worn her out. The turn out had been even bigger and there had been some humans among the mix, too. They were always more energetic because of their weird obsession with mermaids. Keimi was usually okay with them. Even fond of the energetic ones some times as they were the most funny. But today it was all she’d been able to do to keep smiling.

And Madame Sharley had noticed.

Of course she’d noticed. Keimi knew she had. Though the large elegant mermaid had said nothing. Still Keimi would have to make her a cake or something to apologize.

As soon as she felt like moving.

But she had to move. She had obligations to fulfill and a Princess to help.

Back to work.

*******

 

Three days and away and a half day off due to Madame Sharely, and Keimi was feeling a bit better about the whole thing. Having had a nap helped. Though going into the workshop made her heart sink a little. Mm. U’s dress had been mostly fixed, even the swags had been tightened, but the longer that Keimi looked at it, the more she wasn’t sure of the fabric. Yes it flowed well, but would it pick up the light just right? There would just be lanterns at the lantern ball and it wouldn’t do for Mm. U to stand out too much or blend in.

But that could wait for the moment! Keimi thought determinedly, plunking herself next to the beginnings of Shirahoshi’s costume that had finally been cut, thanks to Pappug’s help. Well, most of it. Keimi still wasn’t sure about the black on black on black of it, and now even the idea for the construction had gone haywire in her head. So to that end, she’d gone the extra mile and gotten a book, trying to get an idea of what the princess was lookng for. Keimi didn’t read much generally speaking. She never had the time. But this was a beautiful book, on loan from Madame Sharley, all about the Lantern Lady. More to the point, it had pictures. Big glossy ones, showing her in her different incarnations over the hundreds of years since her myth begun.

The thing was, Keimi wasn’t so sure if she wanted to go with the Angler Fishwoman route to begin with. Not that there was anything wrong with Angler Fishwomen, but that was by far the creepiest incarnation. She flipped to the page to remind herself why she didn’t like it and wrinkled her nose. The caption below the picture read: Luring Lantern Lady. And it showed her more bone than skin, hand clawed in the current as unsuspecting Fishmen swam toward her soul light. This was the one, Keimi knew and the book said, that snatched the souls of the unworthy or the unwary right from their chests and stuffed it in her lantern whether they willed it or no. In this picture her black clothes were ragged and torn, reminding Keimi of shredded sails and shipwrecks. Disaster. Death. Expected or not. There was something dynamic about it, but also something really spooky.

Keimi shuddered. She couldn’t do that to the princess! Even if no one would notice Shirahoshi, it was the principle of the thing. Clothes, even costumes! Meant so much more than just fabric.

So no.

Flipping through some more including some really boring text which made her eyes glaze over just to see and she came to the old Mermaid version of the Lantern Lady. This had been her mother’s favorite one and all the tales that Keimi knew came from this version. Instead of a lantern bobbing from her head, she held it out in her hand, searching the dark seas for the lost souls of any Fish and Merpeople. Mother had usually described her wearing black, but here her clothes where white and grey, billowing in the currents. White coils of hair spilled from around the corners of the hood which covered her face in shadow. Keimi actually really liked the hood, admiring the construction of it in the picture, imagining herself adding a little line of stitching just there to give it some shape. The rest of the outfit was mostly formless, though. Kind of a swirling mass. Which, frankly looked like the artist had gotten a little lazy. Maybe it had some or the other meaning but Keimi had never been the kind to look too deeply into that sort of thing.

So, the hood yes, the rest of it no. The white definitely not.

A little more flipping bought her to the young version of the Lantern Lady in a really nice black bodice, decorated on either side with small scallop shells and tied tight across the chest with a criss-cross pattern. The overall outfit was a little plain and old timey, with the skirt, still decorated with scallop shells along the hem, otherwise looking like something her grandmother would wear. This version of the Lantern Lady was a ‘Maid, though she still had the lantern attached to her head as she bent over a cradle. What was she going to do to that baby? Keimi didn’t want to to know and she wondered again why Shirahoshi would want to be such a thing. It was practically taboo! Of course these days taboos were breaking right and left but still— to be the Lantern Lady on Lantern Night seemed to be inviting all the bad luck in the world.

Not that Keimi believed in that sort of thing. And anyway, she was sure if anyone could defer the bad luck, it would be Princess Shirahoshi. Now the problem was that none of the outfits were all that great. Bits and pieces of them had interesting shapes and even her own design was okay at best. But… what if she combined them? Yes! That could work!. She could use some of the dynamic cuts of the creepy and the hood of the old maid and the corset of the young and do a skirt that flowed even better than Mme. Us! It would take a lot of extra work but Keimi was sure that she could do it without a problem.

“You’re more relaxed than I thought you’d be,” Pappug said, dropping down into the workroom. Keimi supposed he must have just closed up shop for the day. She smiled and close the book on her lap.

“Mm hm! I’ve finally had a little space to breathe! I even found time to take a little nap!” And maybe if she finished Mme U’s dress on time she’d take another. Not a long one but—

“Good! Now let’s get to work!” Pappug threaded a needle. “We can do this in twelve hours, no problem!”

“Okay!” Keimi said cheerfully, setting the book aside and swimming over to the dress. All it really needed was just a little… bit… of...

Wait…

“What do you mean twelve hours?!” Keimi shrieked. “It’s Thursday!”

“It’s Friday,” Pappug said, sweating.

“ _How can it be Friday?!_ Lantern Night is tomorrow!” It couldn’t be! It was impossible! How could she have made that kind of stupid mistake?!

“Please stop shaking me,” Pappug moaned. Keimi let him go and clutched her hair as she looked at everything she had left to do in twelve hours. _Twelve hours!_

“AAHH IT’S IMPOSSIBLE WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!”

“Calm down!” Pappug said. “I’ll help!”

She didn’t feel like she could calm down! It was so little time! But she just had to do it somehow. Pappug handed her the needle and Keimi took it, scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, and got to work.

*******

 

Keimi tried to keep a somewhat cheerful expression on her face as Mme. U examined the dress, tucked carefully in its box.It was mid-morning already. Her and Pappug had worked through the night to get it ready— with only one or two more freakouts on Keimi’s part and Pappug getting overstimulated from caffiene so he had to lie down for a few hours. But it was finally ready. And just about perfect. Keimi was proud of it and, though not generally a violent person, had the faintest idea of smacking Mme. U upside the head if she didn’t stop frowning at it.

“Is it alright?” Keimi asked after it seemed forever had passed without Mme. U saying anything. The old merwoman frowned, lifting the dress from the box and examining it in the light. It was gorgeous in the light now. Though not quite so pretty as it would be in the dark.

“Are you sure it’s not going to look a mess if I hit the water?”

Keimi twitched. She was still learning, maybe, but she wasn’t that much of an amateur! In any case the dress would be perfect in the water! Why couldn’t Mme. U be happy while Keimi’s bandaged fingers throbbed and caffienne thudded slow through her veins, threatening to give out altogether?

“It will be gorgeous, Ma’am,” Keimi said brightly as she could manage. She knew she should downplay it somehow but it was the truth and she couldn’t find the words right now to say otherwise.

“Mm.” Mme. U’s jowls quivered as she folded up the dress again _all wrong_ and stuffed it back in the box. “I suppose you get what you pay for.” Then she stuffed beri into Keimi’s hand and shut the door. Keimi gripped the money hard and was _really_ tempted to— at least— whack the door with her tail. But… there was no point. She sighed, shoulders slumping and was about halfway home before she remembered and changed course for the workshop.

Princess Shirahoshi’s costume still left to do and only a few hours left to do it in. She wasn’t sure how she would be able to manage it. Even with Pappug’s help it seemed and impossible task. The more she thought about it the more she dreaded going back to that place. All the cutting. All the sewing. She wouldn’t even be able to fit the Princess until Shirahoshi dropped by this evening and then it would be a frantic amount of hemming. More than she bargained for even then, probably, because Shirahoshi… well there was a lot of her. The project was now starting to feel like a sea monster ready to eat her up.

Did she have to make the costume? Did she really have to?  After all, Keimi had volunteered the costume and the Princess would certainly understand that she’d run out of time.

But… that was an excuse and Keimi didn’t like to make excuses. Especially since it was more than just Keimi’s own ambition on the line. Princess Shirahoshi had spent so many years in that room. Even if she had seen a kind of Lantern Night as a kid, she had probably forgotten about it by now!  And she’d wanted this costume. She’d asked for it. No matter how creepy or boring it was. Keimi couldn’t let her down.

So… she would do this… somehow…

Maybe she could send Pappug for more coffee, Keimi thought as she drifted through the nearly empty shop, trying not to seem too tired since that looked bad for business when really all she wanted to do was to faceplant onto the floor. Or at least under a nice soft blanket. As she approached the workshop she heard the soft murmur of voices as if Pappug had some friends or clients down there. Keimi couldn’t even feel bad that they would see her mess.

She steeled herself for judging looks or at the very least, strangers and was surprised when she saw instead Madame Sharley, Ishilly and Mero, and the Medaka Quints, as well as some of the others from the Mermaid Cafe, peering at the shambles of Shirahoshi’s costume. An elegant coffee set had been arranged on one of the work tables.

“Is there something wrong?” Keimi asked, hoping that there wasn’t and unable to read their smiles as they looked up at her. Were they sympathetic or regretful? “Wasn’t I off today?” This directed at Madame Sharley. Though Keimi was sure that if she hadn’t been, Sharely wouldn’t have come to get her in person.

“You’re alright,” Sharley said in her smooth melodious voice. “Your Master said you needed help.”

“Always looking out for you!” Pappug said from the table, flashing his stub like he was trying to make a peace sign

“Just tell us what to do!” Ishilly said, flexing her arm. “Only, I can’t sew very well.”

“I can sew.” Ichika said.

“I can sew!” Nika chimed in. Sanka looked uncertain.

“Maybe I can sew?”

“I can’t sew,” Yonka said with a frown.

“So what if I can’t sew?” Yonka Two said, folding her arms.

“Shouldn’t that be ‘so what if you _can_ sew’?” Pappug asked.

“But I can’t,” Yonka Two said.

“She really can’t,” the others chorused.

“Maybe she can?” said Sank uncertainly.

“Stop confusing the issue!” Pappug snapped and Keimi laughed, suddenly feeling lighter and almost light headed! In fact she was almost dizzy with relief. Part of that might be because of the lack of sleep, but that was something coffee could fix. But now at least she knew she could do it. It would take a lot of work still and they definitely would have to rush, but the costume would be made just in time. Maybe it would be Princess Shirahoshi’s only Lantern Night, but Keimi would make sure it would be the best.

*******

Lantern Night at last. Keimi never thought she’d be so happy to see it. Especially if you’d asked her a few hours ago. But now the costume was done, fitted and hemmed and Shirahoshi looked like some hauntingly beautiful version of the Lantern Lady— not ugly at all. To top it off, the Quints had even managed to patch a bunch of the leftovers for a little sheet ghost costume for Megalo. Well a large sheet ghost costume for Megalo. The poor shark couldn’t see very well and seemed to be ‘shaing’ nervously under the sheet, but Keimi was sure he’d have fun.

Who could worry when Shirahoshi was swirling around and around in her costume, watching the outfit flow with wide enchanted eyes. Keimi couldn’t be more proud of herself or the people that had helped her. The bodice framed Shirahoshi quite well. They couldn’t get white scallops in time so mirrors had to do, catching and glinting in the faint light. From the bodice the sleeves and skirt flowed and flared, the layers of black looking like different darks. The dark of the surface, the dark of the sea and even true dark in the under layers. She’d put little mirrors on those, too, looking like strange little stars when they flashed. Over the bodice, Shirahoshi wore an open hooded shirt, a suggestion from Madame Sharley, with sleeves that were artistically ragged, like shredded sails but if they had been shredded by someone who knew what they were doing. Ishilly had been very adept with scissors it turned out.  The hood itself was dark and deep, almost a cowl, and almost completely shadowed Shirahoshi’s face when she pulled it up, but not enough so she couldn’t see.

“It’s wonderful!” the princess breathed. “I feel like a different person!”

Keimi smiled at the praise, but couldn’t help the knot of anxiety that  still rested in her belly. About an hour ago she’d realized she’d forgotten the most important thing about the Lantern Lady. That being the lantern. Making any kind of lantern was far outside of her skill-set and she’d frantically sent Mero to the Fishman District for Hacchin’s help. She didn’t know if he could do it or not, but she trusted him to cobble together something Hachhin was resourceful like that.

Still, it had been over an hour and it was getting darker. If they waited too long there wouldn’t be much of Lantern Night left to see. There was no help for it she supposed. Keimi let out a breath and then forced a bright smile to her face. She was tired and grumpy and worried, but she wouldn’t spoil Shirahoshi’s night like that. She could be all those things when she got back home. As for the lantern, well, she’d just have to hope Hacchin managed to catch up.

“Well we’d better get going!” She said, swimming up to the princess’ shoulder. Shirahoshi gave her a smile and a determined nod, as if she was about to set off on a mission. It was adorable and Keimi couldn’t help but be cheered up in spite of herself. She perched on Shirahoshi’s shoulder so she’d be able to speak to her and not have to swim her tail off to do so and they waited for the Quints to board Megalo, dressed up as tiny sheet ghosts themselves and holding smaller paper lanterns, their bubbles around their necks. One of them was holding Pappug who had an even tinier sheet ghost costume, though not by much.

“Mama jellyfish and babies,” Keimi murmured, pointing them out and Shirahoshi giggled. Megalo “sha”’d but it seemed a happy sha as far as Keimi could tell. And they started off. Heading toward the more family populated districts of the island proper. Keimi couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement and almost wished she’d had the time to make a costume for herself. But it was better for the princess to be the one with the spotlight. Anyway if Keimi had to see one more needle in the next two days it would be too soon.

With Shirahoshi’s speed, they got to the family districts in no time. Keimi expected the Quints to scatter, but instead they guided Megalo down into the busy streets. Shirahoshi hovered above, peering down at the array of costumed kids and some parents that went door to door, holding up their bags for sweets. There were more kids doing this than she remembered… and the costumes were far less scary than usual. She even spotted a small red vest and a straw hat or two, which made her smile.

“They’re all so happy…” Shirahoshi said fondly. “But what are they doing? Is getting candy at night common?”

“No, just tonight.” Keimi sat straighter as a teacher should and tapped her lip with a finger. “I’m not sure why it’s important. Something about keeping them lively so the Lantern Lady doesn’t make a mistake.” Almost too lively. She’d seen the Quints on sugar high and didn’t envy the parents of these children one bit.

“And the bubbles?” Shirahoshi touched her neck. “What are they for?”

“To throw at the Lantern Lady if she doesn’t give up,” Kiemi said. Though sometimes they threw it at each other which was why maybe tabasco went out of favor except among the more superstitious.

“Oh, I see…” Shirahoshi said, sounding sad. What was wrong? Why would she sound sad about— Oh! Oh no!

“They’re not going to throw it at you!” Keimi said, waving her hands. “That was a complete accident that time!”

“No… No it’s not that. I wasn’t worried about that it’s just…” Shirahoshi sighed. “Well they don’t seem to like the Lantern Lady much, do they?”

“Of course not! She’s really super creeeeepy.” Keimi shifted so Shirahoshi could see her out of the corner of her eye. “Have you read any of the stories? They’re enough to give you nightmares! She likes to take babies’ souls and sneak up on Fishmen all alone in the deep sea.” Just thinking about it gave Keimi the chills! But she was mostly speaking to cheer Shirahoshi up. Though the princess only frowned more and Keimi… wondered something.

“Do…do you like the Lantern Lady, Shirahoshi-sama?”

“Well… yes. Mother did, too. Very much.”

“Oh…” Well Keimi wasn’t very surprised. Queen Otohime had been a bit strange. Beloved, of course, but a little screwy. Her own mother had said royals were often like that but not to pay it any mind.

“I used to be afraid of the Lantern Lady…” Shirahoshi said, lacing her fingers together. “But, you know, she’s not really like that. Mother told me… She doesn’t take souls but… collects them. Everyone dies, you know. Young or old…”

“Shirahoshi-sama…” Keimi touched her cheek, or at least the hood. Why was this getting so depressing? It was supposed to be a fun night!

“And… when Fishmen die alone in the deep sea… she appears so they won’t be completely alone.”

Keimi could picture it a little, though she didn’t like to. A Fishman all alone, that was too blurred to look like anyone she knew. Dying with no way to stop it and then a light appearing warm in the stillness… And then the clawed reaching from the darkness, like the toothed maw of some monster, ready to snatch out a soul.

“That still sounds scary…” Keimi murmured, though she knew it wasn’t what Shirahoshi wanted to hear. “But what does she do to the souls after she takes them. They light her lantern forever right? Or she eats them, doesn’t she?"

“She brings them home, of course!” Shirahoshi said, sounding surprised. “So that on the Festival of Lights they can be set free as everyone says goodbye… Haven’t you heard that old song?”

“Old song…?”

Shirahoshi nodded, then cupped her hands over her mouth, souding out a few musical notes before singing, voice soft and warbling a little as if she was uncertain of the notes but pretty enough.

“ _That_ _’s how we swim free,_

_That_ _’s how we go_

_No matter where in the sea we roam._

_Though olden days or youth_ _’s bright haze_

_The Lady will guide us home_.”

 

Well, Keimi knew the tune, but… the lyrics were much different.

“I always thought that was about bubbling.”

“Bubbling?” Shirahoshi asked. Keimi flushed, not realizing she said it out loud and laughed, waving her hands. She didn’t want to be the one to explain it if Shirahoshi didn’t know! She’d definitely get in trouble then.

“Nothing! Nevermind. But that’s a very nice song.”

“Mmhm,” Shirhoshi said. “Mother used to sing it a lot. She would be sad that… tonight is about hating her.”

Well no matter what the Lantern Lady did or didn’t do, she was still kind of terrifying.  Maybe the Lantern Lady would always be frightening because death was scary. Maybe it was entirely too late and Keimi was entirely too tired for this kind of thinking. Anyway she supposed she liked the idea a little better now, because Shirahoshi did. Though she couldn’t get the image of the scary angler fishwoman out of her mind.

“I want to try to bring everyone home, too,” Shirahoshi murmured, but before Keimi could ask, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Keimi-chan!”

She turned and clapped her hands together as she saw Hachi speeding through the air, one hand gripping a large paper lantern fill of glowing jelly fish.

“Hacchin! You made it!” she said as he came to a panting stop in front of them.

“N.. Nyuu sorry it’s not very good. It was short…” he panted some more. “Short notice.”

“It’s alright! As long as it’s here!” and then the costume would be complete! “Let me see. Let me see!”  Hacchin held it up, grinning. There was a wide wooden hoop and a few what looked like fishing poles that had been strapped together for the antennae. The lantern hung from a strand of fishing line and proudly bore the words Happy Sam’s Sushi.

“Sam said he wouldn’t mind,” Hacchin said. “…Much.”

“It’s perfect!” Kiemi said. Especially for something so last minute!

“Ohh! Yes! Thank you!” Shirahoshi said, clapping her hands together. She pushed back her hood and Keimi swum up to hold the lantern in place while Shirahoshi and Hachi put the head piece on. After a few moments she became aware of a murmuring down below her. At first she thought it was just a bunch of people meeting in one place, but then heard a child say:

“It’s Princess Shirahoshi!”

“Eehh?!” Keimi looked down and saw a whole school of little faces, and some bigger ones, looking up. The crowd seemed to be growing by the minute.

“Princess Shirahoshi!”

“It really is!” said another voice.

“Who cares if it is Princess Shirahoshi,” said Yonka Two, somewhere in the crowd.

“Oh no!” Shirahoshi said, putting her hands to her mouth. “How did they know?” Keimi had no idea! She met the princess’ eyes frantically beyond the glow of the lantern…and then they both got it at once.

“THE LIGHT!” they said in the same voice. How could Shirahoshi hide with a light on her face! Even diffused as it was, there was no mistaking her large eyes or pink hair.

“You guys… didn’t want anyone to know?” Hachi said. No of course not! What were they going to do?

“Princess Shirahoshi!” more voices said.

“Hey, Princess.”

“N-no I’m… I’m not…!” Shirahoshi said, waving her hands. Keimi wasn’t so sure that would work. No one seemed to believe it at all. But of course Shirahoshi had just wanted to watch and Keimi had to find a way to fix it somehow.

“She’s not Shirahoshi!” Keimi said. That was a start. Now what else? Oh! Right. “She’s the Lantern Lady! And she’s here to—” steal your souls, Keimi was going to say. And that might scare people off. But Shirahoshi wouldn’t be happy with that. “H…here to watch you have fun,” Keimi said, hesitantly, desperately to the confused faces below her. “She… doesn’t get to see anyone having fun so, you should go do it.” Was that… good?

“Then come with us, Prin— Er— Lantern Lady!” said one of the kids.

“Yeah!” said another, a little mermaid with a large pink wig and a yellow crop top. “Come swim wiff us, Pwincess!”

“Lantern Lady,” said an older boy next to her.

“That’s the Pwincess, stupid,” the girl said.

“Swim with us!” said another, and another.

“O-oh!” Shirahoshi’s eyes were tearing up, but that there was a smile on her face made Keimi relax. This was good. It was all going to be alright. “Okay, I will… But… remember…” And Shirahoshi tugged the hood over her head, though it was light enough to bend easily around the fishing pole, the light swinging to reflect in her eyes. “I’m the Lantern Lady.”

*******

 

_Finally_ bed! Warm sheets! Soft pillow! Just the right amount of water pressure! Keimi felt in heaven as she luxuriated under the blankets and tried not to think about how late it was. It had been a wonderful night, though. Fantastic even. Worth every stress filled moment. It hadn’t taken too long before Shirahoshi had gathered half of the kingdom, it felt like! Kids and adults and even some elderly swimming alongside, her costume rippling and flashing, a darker black than the night around them.  She’d even gone into the Fishman District! Even though some had been reluctant to follow her. The kids there had been rougher and, Keimi thought, perhaps more afraid in their tough punk way. But some of them had followed her out anyway and then…they’d just swam, back and forth, throwing candy and swinging lights and singing the Lantern Lady song.

It had been wonderful.

It had been _hours._

Keimi had even fallen asleep at one point and swore she woke up to the sight of King Neptune swimming not a few feet away.

Still it had been a wonderful night. A perfect costume. A perfect evening. And she rebellously wished Mme. U had had a nice night too and was admired, as Keimi knew she would be, or at least the dress would be. In any case the dress was out of her hands and so was the costume and so was the night.

She smiled once more at the large paper lantern— Sam’s Happy Sushi… and then opened the top to let the jellyfish pour out, blinking and scudding their way toward the open window in a trail of luminous stars. Keimi watched their dance with a smile.

As the last few drifted to freedom, she snuggled deep into the pillow, murmuring:

“Good night, Lantern Lady.”

Then closed her eyes and slept.

 


	3. Pumpkin Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later and Laki feels that the ideas of Shandia and Skypiea are starting to mesh well in this time of peace, despite her own strange unrest. The increasing amount of visiting Blue Sea people are a more or less welcome addition to their new home. If only she could convince Wiper of this...

Laki closes the shade to the Pumpkin  Cafe, the faint clattering of the wooden slats filling her with a sense of relief. It has been a long day. Longer than usual. The sun is already setting, burning the sky with red and making the clouds of the white sea soft and pink. Soon they will be a deep blue and then white again perhaps as the moon rises, striping white onto the forest floor. But for right now they are closing. Tomorrow they will open again and serve a slightly varied menu to more or less the same customers, be inundated with the smell of pumpkin everything and then, probably late once more, they will close up. She enjoys it for the most part. It’s a nice routine. It’s good work. She enjoys seeing people liking the food she prepares for them, even if it is mostly the same ones…

Though they’re getting Blue Sea people more and more frequently, recently docked, breathless and eager, and wanting to sample good food that isn’t too expensive considering how most places charge. She and Conis had decided it would be affordable, though, even though food cultivated in the Holy Land felt even more precious— especially since it was grown by the two peoples, Shandia and Skypiean, working side by side, turning over the rich brown vearth, watering, weeding, watching fruits and vegetables grow in the sunlight that filtered between the trunks of the massive trees.

“Well, I’m sorry to say, but that was quite a rush!” Conis says as she stretches, reaching pale arms over her head and grunting in a feminine way.  “I wonder if it’s going to be like this every harvest time,”

“Who knows?” They’ve only had one before this and that had been of an experiment than anything.  Though that harvest had been even busier as Shandia and Skypiean alike, tired from weeks of long work, had flocked to their fledgling shop for a pay-as-you-will day. They hadn’t made much of a killing, but they hadn’t gone out of business either. A few more days like this one however and Laki could see them expanding the shop in a few years time. Maybe even hiring others.

Laki ties the shade in place and watches absently as Conis secures her large harp on her back, surprisingly strong despite her arms and —well—soft everything else. Laki is going soft, too. It’s not something she can feel hour by hour, but sometimes she has to stop and look at her own arms, no longer corded with muscle, body no longer quite as lean, though not fat either, just soft. Peace time soft. Fighting is no longer necessary— if it really ever had been— and it’s as if those muscles are relaxing too.

“Mm?” Conis tilts her head. “Are you alright, Laki-chan?”

“Just fine,” Laki says, somewhat taken aback by the question. Conis’ eyebrows raise on her soft but deceptively shrewd face, and Laki holds her gaze, feigning as much bewildered surprise as she can. It is a contest of wills, really, almost as hard as any she’s faced on the battlefield, but soon Conis relents, looking away to  pick up one of the patio chairs and set it on the table.

“You know you can talk to me, Laki-chan”

“I know,” Laki says, seeing right through Conis’ use of ‘chan’ but unable to stop the warm sensation she feels from hearing it. She begins to pick up chairs herself, angling herself away from Conis, but not so much that it would seem as if she is directly avoiding her. “But there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I understand,” Conis says. Her voice is so certain it sounds like she truly does. And yet, how can she when Laki doesn’t even understand. It’s not that she’s sad or nostalgic or anything like that. She appreciates the good times of the old days, but doesn’t want any of it back, not if it means going through that mess again. Still there is something unspoken in her. Some yearning she doesn’t quite understand. Like having a craving for a specific type of food but not knowing what it is.

“It’s not about Wiper-san, is it?” Conis says and Laki is so shocked to hear his name come right out of the blue that she nearly drops the chair.

“Wiper…?” she echos and finds Conis leaning toward her, one hand clutched in a loose fist near her face.

“You would tell me if it was about him, wouldn’t you? Or… Kamakiri-san…”

“What…?” Then Laki gets it and laughs. “No, it’s nothing like that at all!” They are practically… Well she’d  never thought of them in quite that light. Who had the time?

“So it is about _some_ thing,” Conis says, tapping her finger near her chin and Laki can’t help but think she’s just been tricked somehow. For all that she used to think that Skypieans were soft as clouds, they had minds as sharp as knives. At least Conis does.

“I don’t know,” Laki says with a sigh, putting the last chair up and dusting off her hands. And to Conis’ look, holds up her hands. “ I really don’t. It’s just a feeling. Not even a bad one just… a feeling.”

Conis regards her a moment more, then relaxes a little, though she still seems worried. Laki wishes she wouldn’t. It’s an Skypiean thing, she knows— or at least supposes. Shandia tend to leave the unexplainable emotions to those that have them. There is little meddling or attempt at fixing except in the very young or the severely traumatized. But Conis is not Shandia and Laki has struggled to at least understand where she’s coming from if not completely accept her line of thinking.

“Well, I hope you…feel better,” Conis says with a faint smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Mmhm! See you!” Laki waves to Conis, then pulls on her skates and starts off at an easy pace, not hurried so Conis can’t mistake Laki for being mad at her, but determined enough to avoid any concerned calls.  It isn’t that they aren’t friends, Laki thinks. Because she does like Conis. But sometimes it’s like cats and dogs trying to get along. There is still a lot of learning to do.  But learning and working is over for the day.  For now Laki walks down the New Lovely road and further into the Holy Land proper. It doesn’t take long until the Skypiean town falls away and she’s striding among the trunks of massive trees that she had used to long to see and now she can touch every day. 

And maybe it’s because she can that these trees have lost some of their holiness. Even the dirt under her feet fills familiar. Hard ground and not cloud that always had a slight give to it. The smell of forest was so familiar she couldn’t even distinguish it anymore, and mostly she just smelled pumpkin noodles from where she’d accidentally spilled a little broth on her shoes. It doesn’t help that these trees, this forest, these smells… It’s good that they have become cultivated… but they _are_ cultivated. She is walking on a narrow dirt path but it _is_ a path, cut through the underbrush. She can smell  numerous cooking fires in the distance. Though night is falling and it’s darker under the trees than out in the open, pumpkins with carved faces hang from the branches, light dials glowing steadily inside their orange heads. Another thing Skypieans don’t understand. Why not just use lanterns? Why resort to such unecessary things? The why was, of course, because a pumpkin didn’t outlive its usefulness just because you took its insides out. Because it looks interesting.  Just because.

Laki wonders if part of this attitude is because the Skypieans have never had to live on the edge . They’ve never learned to scrimp and save and use every part of everything because you never knew when the next thing was coming. Well maybe it’s true and maybe it isn’t but she can’t help but feeling bitter about it and that just isn’t something that’s necessary. They’ve entered an new cooperative future of two disparate peoples working toward a common goal of survival. Pumpkin faces were no big thing. Let the Skypieans not understand. It didn’t stop Laki from enjoying it.

She wends her way more or less homeward, trying to quell the unhappy thoughts and the quiet yearning that’s grown to something of a hunger that she still can’t explain. Maybe Conis is right to be worried. Maybe there is something wrong with Laki. A sickness of wanting. Is there really such a thing?

Frustrated with herself, she changes direction just to try to distract herself into a more peaceable train of thought and finds herself on a path hugging the cost. There are even more pumpkin lanterns here, hanging from branches or tucked in the arms of them. Some are even placed in knotholes and grin cheerfully out. A South Bird is using one as a perch as it tucks its wing under its beak for sleep. See? She can’t help but think to imaginary Skypiean. They are more than just trash.

She is fortunately kept from that line of thinking as she spots firelight flickering between the trees in the glowing gloom. She approaches it with caution, aware that she’s sneaking but unwilling to stop until she knows what and who it is. Her instincts haven’t gone soft like the rest of her. At least not completely. At first she thinks its a large orange man and wonders if some Blue Sea person has wandered ashore. But as she comes closer she realizes it’s an enormous pile of pumpkins. Two of them, actually. Sitting between them on a large branch that had fallen long ago is Wiper. That she can tell even from this distance.

Laki unconsciously straightens as she comes closer, centering herself, lifting her head. Wiper glances at her which seems to be acknowledgment enough because the next moment he plunges the knife back into the pumpkin shell with a thud that sounds strikingly similar to something else entirely.

He has been carving a lot of pumpkins.

She wonders if he is off duty right now as captain of the guards, or if he’s just guarding something else. The rifle lying against his shoulder and glinting in the firelight makes it hard to tell. He’s still as attached to that thing as ever. She considers asking him but decides against it. It’s not her business either way and he may not even answer her. As she draws closer still, though, she thinks she has her own answer. The trees are thin here and she can see the white sea quite clearly, red now from the sunset. A Blue Sea ship rises and sinks gently on its billowy waves.

“It’s the third one this month,” Wiper says around his cheroot, the tip glowing an angry red. “They just can’t get enough of us.”

“It’s a beautiful place,” Laki murmurs, feeling a knot of irritation at his anger that she can’t really place. Wiper snorts and stabs his knife into the pumpkin again. He doesn’t seem to be carving a face, though, but words. The finished pumpkins seem to have words, too, and Laki picks one up, frowning at what she reads.

K E E P   O U T

This again? At least he isn’t shooting them, but…

“We have our land now, you know,” she tells him, knowing it’s like going to be talking to a beanstalk. “And they have plenty of vearth of their own, don’ they? They’re not going to want ours.”

“I don’t know what they want,” Wiper says. “But not all Blue Sea people are going to be wide-eyed visitors.” Or helpful pirates, Laki thinks, understanding what wasn’t said. “We have to draw the line while we can.”

She wants to debate that. She wants to live in as peaceful a time as Conis and the other Skypiean seem to. The worst is over. There is just peace now. And isn’t it that way? Shouldn’t it be? Hadn’t they fought hard enough to even come to this conclusion? She turns to look fully at the sea. It’s growing darker. The first stars have appeared. Lanterns have flickered to light on the mast and in the aft cabin, but Laki can’t see what kind of people were aboard. Even if she could, would she be able to tell if they were good or bad? How could anyone? She understands the need for caution but does that mean that they should decide to keep out any new threat? Any potential threat? Is that the kind of world Aisa is going to live in?

No…

Laki clutches the pumpkin between her fingers. No she refuses to let it be. Maybe it’s a risk but living in peace is always a risk— but it’s better than shutting people out all the time. Just like Wiper does to anyone who tries to get close to him. But the others will follow his lead whether or not they agree to it out of love for him that he either can’t or won’t see. But not this time. It stops here.

She takes a moment to think about it, biting back a jolt of annoyance when Wiper says in a softer tone:

“Who needs more visitors anyway?”

Well who knows if they need them or not! Maybe it would do Aisa and the other children good to see new faces and new perspectives. Maybe the visitors can find some good here! Laki levels her gaze on the ship. She doesn’t know who is there or what they are like, but the first step perhaps is finding out. Making the connection.

With a resolute nod, she tucks the pumpkin absently under her arm and heels on the breath dials of her skates, starting for the sea.

“Laki?” Wiper says, then when she doesn’t stop: “Laki!”

She jumps down from the edge of the Holy Land, picking up speed as she skims over the white sea, frowning as she hears the faint hiss of breath dials. Wiper is coming after her. She can’t outrun him. Well, she can, but it will take too much effort considering he must already know where she’s going. So she makes a beeline for the ship so there can be no mistake.

Her jaw tightens as she hears him close in fast behind her, growling: “Laki.” And his large callused hand closes over her arm, pulling her gently back, not enough to even upset her balance, though that doesn’t matter. She twists her head to glower at him.

“Let me go,” she says.

“To do what? You don’t need to worry about these people.” His grip tightens. It doesn’t hurt but it’s as if he’s telling her to listen. “They’re not one of us.”

“So does that mean we spend our whole lives being afraid of them?” she says. Wiper’s expression turns hard. Not as hard as it was once, for all that he looks darker with the long hair framing his face, but he is grinding the cheroot between his teeth as if biting back words he wants to say.

“I am _not_ afraid,” he finally manages. Laki meets his eyes, despite being a little intimidated by his churning anger.

“You can’t even say hello.”

Wiper blinks as if shocked and his grip loosens. Laki knows it’s her moment and begins to head for the ship once more. Wiper’s fingers glide warm along her inner arm and wrist before he lets her go. It’s a concession. It’s a change, even a small one. She appreciates that. She appreciates even more that he’s following her toward the ship which was small at a distance but looms as they draw closer, a hazy black and blue in the twilight. She can’t help but feel prickle of cold rise on her neck. It’s one thing for Blue Sea people to come into the cafe. It’s another to go meet them on their turf where anything can happen. And maybe it will end well!

She pulls to a stop a few feet away so she can look up without straining her neck. No one seems to be around the railings and she doesn’t have a milky dial to give her a boost. Perhaps she could call them? Laki tightens her arm around the pumpkin and says:

“Hello?” But she underestimated the size of the ship and the tightness of her own throat, so she clears it and, tries again:

“Hello, up there!”

It takes a moment before she hears the sound of feet over the deck and a few faces appear over the side and Laki relaxes a little. Blue Sea people don’t look much different after all, save for the sad lack of wings. One of them is fat. The other is thin with hair that looks like strangler vines and the third has long pale hair… and very long arms, Laki notices with a start as the girl dangles them over the side. Does she have two elbows somehow? Laki is so shocked she doesn’t know what to say at first but the Blue Sea people speak for her.

“Hey look!” says strangler vine. “It’s a couple of natives!”

“Skypiean,” says the fat one.

“Shandia,” Wiper mutters and there’s the click of a flame dial as he lights another cheroot. She’s grateful in a way he doesn’t say it louder, even though the mistake makes her bristle. It’s not as if they know the difference and to be mistaken for one people is good. It is good. It shouldn’t annoy her at all-because that is the more or less end goal even if Skypieans could never be real Shandia— But no. Never mind. That is an internal debate for another time.

“Whatchoo want then?” says the long armed girl. And there Laki has to pause, heat filling her face. She…hadn’t really thought this far. Although what she wanted was to prove to Wiper that these people aren’t a threat— beyond that, she didn’t exactly plan out how this interaction might go. Laki opens and closes her mouth a few times, struggling for words.

“Think she understands us?” says the fat one.

“Said ‘ello din’t she?” says long arms.

“Maybe that’s the only word she knows,” says the fat one. “Try slower.”

“I understand, thank you,” Laki says sharply— more sharply than she meant to, and Wiper snorts in a way that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. She elbows him in the gut, making him grunt instead and she’s glad she hasn’t lost too much of her edge. She gathers herself. “I… We have come to welcome you--”

“Oi,” Wiper says, but Laki presses on before he can speak.

“To the Holy Land.” And she gestures back toward the beautiful island of trees and vearth, floating under the moonlight behind them. The Blue Sea people almost as one up, look at her, look at each other, then back at her. Laki feels her face heat.

“We can see it from here,” says strangler vine. “Who cares about trees and stuff.”

_Who cares about trees and stuff?_ How could he be so callous about something so magnificent? Something they had spent their lives fighting for? _Trees and stuff?_ She wants to put a hole in the side of their ship and see how much they care about trees and stuff then!

“I hear they have treasure,” says the fat one to his companions.

“No one said a fing about treasure!” says long arms. “Maybe we should go see.”

“Do you have any treasure?” says strangler vines. “Just asking for academic reasons.” Though the grin that lights his face speaks otherwise.

“Speak fer yourself, mate,” long arms mutters.

They’ll learn to treasure breathing in a moment. They probably want gold, though. Blue Sea people seem to be obsessed with it. It’s pretty but next to useless as far as Laki is concerned. You can’t eat gold. You can’t sleep on it. It’s not even a very effective weapon. Still she’s not so sure if she wants to let these people have it either. They didn’t deserve that kind of gift. Or any kind of gift when it came down to it.

“You know. Treasure!” says the fat one slowly. “It’s kind of hard and yellowy and comes out of the ground.”

Laki schools her face into a warrior’s flat expression and, at least making sure the words are turned away from them, holds up the pumpkin in all seriousness. _This_ is the treasure of the Holy Land. The truest treasure anyone can find. The treasure of food. Of light. Of expression. Of community. She doesn’t expect them to understand. Still it just infuriates her all the more where they groan all at once.

“No, I mean…” says the fat one.

“Forget it. There’s no treasure here,” says strangler vine, leading his crewmate away.

“Piss off. We don’t want any,” says long arms, making what Laki assumes is a rude gesture before going to join her companions. Laki can feel herself trembling. She won’t throw the pumpkin at the side of the ship. That won’t help anything. Though she more than wants to throw it at their heads.

“Wonderful people,” Wiper says with a sarcasm she didn’t even know he was capable of. “Glad we found that out now before oof!--”

Laki shoves the pumpkin in his gut before he can finish being an ass and skates off. Why did they have to be that way? Is that what Blue Sea people want after all? To see something strange an exotic? To hunt for treasure? Like the Holy Land… their homeland, is nothing more than some sort of amusement park? That they are just natives without any history or culture of their own?

 She can hear Wiper coming up behind her once more, quickly gaining ground. She used to be faster than him. What happened to that? She turns on him before he can grab her again, making him stop. He doesn’t look like he’s gloating so she isn’t tempted to put a fist in his face… She just wishes he would stop following her.

“What do you want? To say that you’re right? Well you’re not!” Even if she believes he might be, she doesn’t want to! That had to count for something! Otherwise the future would never change!

“I don’t understand why it matters so much to you,” Wiper says. “We have everything we fought for. What does the rest of it matter?”

“The world is so much bigger than what we fought for,” Laki says, gripping her opposite arm and wishing she didn’t feel so openly vulnerable right now. She was angry yes, but even saying that made her think of the near mythical Blue Sea, somewhere far far below. So far she could barely comprehend. And so wide that there didn’t seem to be an end. And all of it full of people.

“More Blue Sea people will come,” she says in a softer voice. “And we have to find a way to relate to them without having to fight it out. And what if Aisa wants to go to the blue sea one day? How will she know what to expect?”

Wiper gives her a long look, and then glances away. He seems to have nothing to say.

But then again… neither does she.

******

The morning is chilly and Laki is bleary eyed and running late. There’s no need to hurry, though. Conis will open the Pumpkin Cafe without her and Laki will make up the difference. Besides which she still needs some time to compose herself. She’s been turning last night over and over in her mind and no matter how many times she thinks about it, she can’t feel anything other than embarrassment. She had pressed too hard. What did it matter what Blue Sea people wanted or didn’t want so long as they behaved themselves? Aisa would find her own way with the Blue Sea people if she chose or elsewhere if she chose. She was headstrong like that and hardly needed Laki to guide her.

She hugs the beaded shawl closer around her shoulders and tries not to let it get to her. At least this is nothing that Conis will get to hear. And if Laki can just work with energy and enthusiasm, maybe Conis won’t even realize. Right now though she feels like one of the pumpkin lanterns. Without the light flickering between their square eyes and happy smiles, they seem old and tired—unready and unwilling to face the morning. Hopefully she’ll be able to get some spark of her own going soon. Maybe once she gets some coffee in her.

Somewhere nearby, a South Bird ‘johs’ in agreement.

“Cor! That’s a big ducky, innit?”

Laki blinks. Wait… is that?

“It’s a South Bird. Not a duck.” That’s… Wiper? Laki looks around for them and sees the girl a few yards to her left. Laki creeps up on them carefully, keeping to the shadows, footsteps quiet on the soft vearth. The three Blue Sea people from last night are standing among the trees, Wiper nearby watching them. Without even his rifle at his back. The girl is staring up at astonishment at the South Bird while the fat one sits against the base of another tree, a sketch book open on his lap as he scribbles on it furiously. Strangler vines is looking at another tree, one of the biggest in the forest, his hands on his hips.

They seem to be enjoying themselves…

Seeing this forest for the first time. The beauty of it. The bigness of it. Maybe they can’t feel the same things that Laki does, but they must feel something similar, right? She glances at Wiper who catches her eye and gives her a nod. She nods back, trying not to smile too much but unable to keep it completely smothered. He seems to be smiling, too, at the corners of his mouth as he watches her. Even he can’t remain unaffected by their wonder.

“Yep,” says strangler vine as if to himself. “I’m going to pee on this.”

“Don’t,” Wiper says, popping him over the head.

Well perhaps it’s not _all_ wonder but…maybe it takes more time for some than others. Laki turns away before they can notice her and moves at a quicker pace toward town. Maybe the sense of wonder will grow on strangler vine. Maybe they’ll all tell their friends in the Blue Sea what a wonderful place this is and maybe _they_ will come just to see the trees, to smell the forest, to feel the wildness around them. Everything is beautiful here, Laki thinks. Even the pumpkin lanterns seem to have regained their luster somehow, touched by the morning light. Laki sucks in a breath of sweet clean air and takes in their amazing Holy Land as if for the first time.

 

 


	4. The Cost of Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banchina loves Yasopp how he is, but sometimes she just wishes he would try a little harder. Syrup is their home and that's where Usopp will grow up so it's not too much to ask, is it? Except fitting in is harder than it seems, especially when no one wants to fit in around you-- and is that what she really wants after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: slight child endangerment
> 
> Lullaby lyrics (c) Serrende, (with permission) used in her great fic [East Blue Lullaby](http://archiveofourown.org/works/698208)

Banchina lifted her head as a brush of wind curled up the hillside, making the branches whisper their secrets and sending handfuls of colorful leaves tangling through the air. It was such a beautiful day. Perfect for the Harvest Festival. Brisk, but not too cold, with a bright blue sky skudded with clouds. The moon was already in the sky, pale but large and would be full and wonderful once night set in. Yasopp said it was good luck, but he said that so carelessly that she wondered if he even really believed it himself. Whether good luck or ill, one thing she did know was that it promised to be a bitter night so Usopp would have to put up with a coat over his costume —which he might be happy or unhappy about depending on how tired he was.

Right now he was playing with the little piles of leaves she’d set in front of him, crunching them between his tiny brown hands. Then flapping his hands up and, scattering leaf bits over his lap. He noticed her watching and grinned, throwing the leaves bits in the air and saying “oosh!” That was new and Banchina felt a surge of warmth even if it wasn’t quite a word.

“Are you the wind, Usopp-chan?”

“Wim!”

“Mmhm, you’re a good wind.” She brushed the leaf litter from his black springy hair absently looking down the empty road, covered red and gold and brown with autumn’s efforts. She’d have sweep it clean soon or it would be all brown and slick with rain or snow or whatever winter decided to bring. At the moment she was still holding out hope that something else would stir up the fallen leaves— something like a dark and mysterious stranger who was usually her husband who would come slouching up the road as he said he might. She preferred he walked upright, with a bright eager face and a smile. In fact she preferred he’d stay more often than not and take up some odd job in town rather than spending his time on the other side of the island in Maplebreak.

Or rather the tavern in Maplebreak.

Disreputable place.

If there was anyone interesting there he might not come home at all until nightfall, or he’d come staggering—but if that was the case it would better to stagger back the way he came. She was not going to the Harvest Festival with him like that.

“Do you know, I think Apple Brandy is a blight on humanity,” Banchina said, lifting the costume again and working on attaching the sleeve with small even stitches. “I wish your father didn’t like it so much.”

“Dada?” Usopp looked up from where he’d been shoving handfuls of leaves against his doll’s face, presumably trying to make the poor thing eat them.

“Not yet,” Banchina said, wanting to tell him that his father would be home ‘soon’ or at the very least ‘later’ but who knew with him. Usopp sniffed, wiggling his nose and then continued to stuff leaves on his doll’s face. Banchina frowned at the small clear bubble of snot that was starting to come out of his nose. Maybe it was too cold for him. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped it clean, then proceeded to tie off the thread and gather her sewing supplies. Usopp was an easy baby mostly, not that Banchina had much experience, but he was awful with a cold. He cried and had blistering fevers and coughs and got mucous absolutely everywhere.

“Want Dada,” Usopp said.

“Your father will be home when he gets home,” Banchina said patiently, folding up the costume and turning her head just in time to see Usopp pick up a slug and bring it toward his mouth. Babies want to eat everything, the others had told her, giving her knowing looks, so you’d better keep an eye on it. They weren’t wrong.

“Usopp don’t eat that.” She stopped him and pried the slug from his hand, wrinkling her nose at the slime that coated her palm. Usopp cried out, a single note of annoyance and reached for it. “No. We do not eat slugs,” she said, burying the slug under a pile of leaves and wiping off her hands and his.

“My gugg!”

“It’s its own slug,” she said, picking up sewing kit, costume and doll in one hand and boy in the other, setting him on her hip.

“Gugg! Gugg!” he squirmed, reaching for it, peering over her shoulder, around her arm so that she nearly lost her grip. Honestly why did mothers come with only two? There were some days she was sure even four arms wouldn’t be enough.

“Would you rather smell some pumpkin pie, Usopp-chan?” Banchina said, shifting her grip and starting resolutely for the house. “It’s probably close to done.”

“Unkin!” Usopp chirped happily, throwing his hands in the air. Banchina smiled, kissing the top of his head, glad that had ended easily enough. Once inside, she put her things on the kitchen table and boy in his chair, pulling off his sweater as the baking pumpkin made the house entirely too hot. She laughed softly as the static electricity made his hair poof up even more than normal so he looked like he got stuck in a bush.

“You beautiful creature,” she said, tweaking his nose. “How would you like some animal crackers?”

“Dada?”

“Not yet, love.”

“Want Dada,” he said, drumming his heels against the chair.

“Me, too,” Banchina said, trying not to let the sigh into her voice. She set some crackers in front of him and warm milk in a sippy cup before turning to the oven. The pie was done. Done and near perfect, she decided, basking in the scent. ‘A girl with a nose like that could smell a truffle in the mud’ Mrs. Pleco had said once, and while Banchina didn’t know about that, she knew what a good pie smelled like. Which was a blessing considering that it was really their biggest source of income.

She set the pie on the windowsill to cool and peered out once more at the empty road, not expecting anything and so not disappointed… Much. Banchina sat once more at the table, picking up the costume. Baking and sewing kept food on the table, with the occasional forays into repairing fishing nets when times got particularly lean.

 It wasn’t Yasopp’s fault, really, that he had a hard time getting a job. For one thing, after ten years, he was still the new kid in town. He needed about sixty more in order to move up to welcome guest. Also against him, his family wasn’t here for the founding of their small but quaint village. And the most damning point, no one knew who his family was. The poor people of Syrup could hardly be expected to handle such a mystery!

“It’s a good town,” she said to herself, to Usopp who was busy gleefully busy making his crackers into more crackers but smaller ones. “They are good people. Just a little close-minded…” And of course when jobs were thin on the ground, they’d give whatever jobs they could to their families. What was left over was hard, back breaking work that no one wanted to do— and room for advancement only after the prerequisite fifty years and change.

She couldn’t blame Yasopp for being restless. He was young and vital and wanted to make a name for himself somewhere. While she could raise to near village matron status simply by having Usopp, there were no points given out for simply managing to father a child.

“Life isn’t fair sometimes, Usopp,” she said to herself, lifting the costume and wrinkling her nose. “I’m not sure this looks very much like a beetle either.”

“Down!” Usopp demanded, stretching his toes downward. He seemed to have been more interested in playing than eating because there seemed to be more cracker bits on the table, and his fists, and face and hair then there were on the high chair table. He was a thirsty demon, though. She wiped his face and hands and put up the gate in front of the open door before setting boy on the floor with the doll—which he quickly abandoned for a big toy boat that ‘the town’ had given to him as part of their annual Festival of Lights celebration. For those poor and unfortunate. She had thought Yasopp would bite through a door.

She hoped that Usopp had a better time of it. There weren’t many babies around his age. Most of the children in town had a good three or four years on him. But he was still little. There were plenty of times for the other to… well…get with the baby making, as Yasopp had put it. Though he’d had that sardonic look that annoyed her when he’d said it. It annoyed her even more when she wanted to match it. In any case, despite Banchina’s own unfortunate status as an orphan, her parents had been there at the founding of Syrup and she still had a rickety Great Aunt that lived in the village— so Usopp wouldn’t be completely unmoored. He had a heritage. Even if it was slender as a grass blade.

On the other hand, she thought, as she got to hemming the costume. It would help if Yasopp made _some_ effort to make nice with the village. Getting him to participate in anything other than the beer fest was like pulling teeth. Maybe, he said, unwilling to outright lie to her. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe she would box him in the ears one day.

It wasn’t _easy_. She understood that even better than he did because she _did_ try. Sometimes enough for the both of them. She was getting good at apologizing for his presence as much as his absence these days— and it wasn’t all due to Apple Brandy. Don’t date him, they’d said. He’s nothing but a wastrel and a scoundrel. Don’t marry him, they’d said, he’ll bring you nothing but heartache. It was true and it wasn’t and there was nothing about her baby that was anything of the above.

“At least they’ll like _you_ ,” Banchina said as Usopp chewed on the solid prow of the boat, growling between his teeth like a sea monster in the game Yasopp had taught him. She watched him for a while. Checked the road once more. Pulled the pie from the window and wrapped it for the journey. And as the sunset started in the sky, sighed , closed the door and pulled her costume from the closet. It wasn’t really much of a costume. Though she was expected to make an effort, it wouldn’t do if she tried too hard. She didn’t want to try at all. But she could see her way to being a scarecrow so long as she didn’t have to put up with any actual straw scratching her skin.

“Mama bath?” Usopp asked, toddling over to her and holding up his arms. “Me too!”

“Mama’s getting changed so we can go into the village,” Banchina said, sweeping Usopp up and setting him on the bed.

“Visshe?” Usopp said, grabbing his feet and rocking back and forth. “Me too?”

“You, too,” Banchina said, pulling off her shirt and slipping on the scarecrow dress, artistically patched anyway, if she did say so herself. But she’d take a coat, too, and some gloves. And of course her bag. Since going anywhere with Usopp without luggage was a recipe for disaster. She pulled her hair into pigtails, longing to look out the window once more but stopping herself and placing herself at her vanity instead.

“And with any luck your…” she trailed off as she heard it. Faint but unmistakable. Someone was coming up the road, singing. She stilled, trying not even to breathe as she tilted her head to catch the sound better. A clear voice. Not slurred. Banchina smiled and tried to school it into a neutral expression, but caught her own face in the mirror and smiled even wider, her face flushing.

That would simply not do.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, let it out and then gave herself the most dead-eyed expression she could as she applied the lipstick, bright and cherry red. The singing grew closer and then abruptly stopped as she knew it would. Sneaky jerk. She could still hear his footsteps outside the house if she listened very carefully. But he was sneakier than even that and waited behind the door, before shoving it open and shouting:

“I’m home!”

“Welcome home,” Banchina replied neutrally.

“Dada! Dada!” Usopp squealed and Banchina saw him get up out of the corner of her eye, terror going through her as she saw him race on pudgy baby legs toward the edge of the bed.

“Ah!” she reached for him, nearly falling out of the chair but Yasopp cursed and beat her to it, lunging across the room and catching Usopp in one hand, and then said:

“Whoop!” and in a smooth motion tossed him in the air. Usopp squealed and Banchina waited until Yasopp safely caught him again before turning back to her vanity, closing her eyes and trying to swallow her heart back into her throat. The floor wasn’t that far. Usopp might have been okay. But the floor was so hard and his bones were so tiny. She’d have to be more careful about that in the future.

“Have you been a good boy for your mama, Usopp?” Yasopp asked.

“No!” Usopp said cheerfully. “What dat?”

“That’s my nose.”

“What dat?”

“That’s _your_ nose.”

“Dat?”

“Your mother’s sultry neck.”

“Don’t teach him words like that!” Banchina said, left over fear making her voice sharp. Yasopp gave her a wide grin that charmed her right to the soles of her feet and shrugged with one hand.

“Can’t help if it it’s true.”

“You can help saying it,” Banchina said, turning back to the mirror. “Help Usopp into his costume, would you? We’re going to be late.” He met her eyes in the mirror though his expression was hard to read and soon Usopp was tugging on his hair.

“Dada! Dada! Funda gugg!”

“You found a gugg, did you?” Yasopp said, turning away and putting Usopp on the kitchen table. “What’s a gugg?”

“A slug,” Banchina said, moving to apply rosy patches of cherry red to her cheeks. “He nearly ate it.”

“You’re not supposed to eat those. You’ve got to fry them first at least,” Yasopp said. “Arms up!” Usopp obeyed and Yasopp pulled his shirt off, then bent and blew a raspberry into his stomach, sending Usopp into peels of laughter. Banchina couldn’t even be annoyed at him. Even knowing he might not go. Like he didn’t go last year. It hadn’t mattered so much when Usopp was a little baby, and when she had been pregnant it mattered even less. But the older Usopp got the more people would expect to see Yasopp there.

“Now what are you going to be?” Yasopp said. “A turtle?”

“A beetle,” Banchina said.

“A gugg!” Usopp proclaimed. “Gugg! Gugg!”

“A turtle beetle gugg, I see I see,” Yasopp said, nodding and stroking his chin. She sighed.

“Will you please stop confusing the issue? He needs to improve his vocabulary not corrupt it.”

“I’m not corrupting anything. At least not yet.”

Honestly did he _have_ to have a witty answer to everything? She wanted to ask him that but knew that could lead into a fight and didn’t want to go into town in a bad mood. It was going to be hard enough if he decided to stay home. She might as well figure out his intentions now— After she applied freckles with an eyebrow pencil so she wouldn’t also be tempted to stab him with it.

“Did you have fun in Maplebreak?” she asked, because she was curious and she didn’t want to be snapping at him all the time.

“Nah, it was slow today.” He worked Usopp’s tiny gloves until Usopp fussed and then took them off and nibbled his tiny baby fingers, making Usopp giggle instead. “Everyone interesting left port months ago. Never to return, probably.”

Good riddance, Banchina thought. It would explain why Yasopp had returned home, perhaps, but even if that was the case, she was grateful. She decided that was enough freckles and set the eyebrow pencil down with a click.

“Your costume is in the closet if you want to come,” she said.

“And if I want to stay home?” He said, bouncing his eyebrows at her. She gave him a bland look and his saucy expression fell. As well it should. She didn’t want to make him feel terrible about it, but it was important, as she’d told him more than once. Banchina sat on the edge of the bed to pull on her soft brown shoes only to be interrupted as Yasopp rested his chin on her lap, looking up at her with cow eyes and holding Usopp in the crook of his arm.

“Don’t be mad,” he said. It was like two babies sometimes.

“I’m not,” she said, because she wasn’t.

“You act like you are.”

“You’re seeing what you want.” As always. The sun was red in the windows now. “I have to go,” she said, trying to nudge him away with her leg. He slipped his too warm hand against her calf and her toes curled without any explicit direction from her.

“I want to see you happy,” he said.

“Then come,” she said, cupping his cheek with one hand, stroking the skin near his temple just to watch his eyelids droop. “It’s just once a year. That’s all I’m asking. For Usopp’s sake.”

“He doesn’t care,” Yasopp said. “Look at him, happy as a clam.” More like drooling on his fingers like a monkey as he wriggled in Yasopp’s grip, looking longingly toward his boat.

“He will,” Banchina said. “In a few years when the other kids start to ask him where his Dad is.”

Yasopp startled as if he’d only just realized this was something then could happen. He looked sad for a moment and then he sighed, letting Usopp wriggle free so he could drop his arms and bury his face in Banchina’s lap.

“You don’t play fair, Ban-chan.”

“Thank you, love,” she murmured, stroking the back of his neck to watch the goosebumps rise on his skin. His hand flexed against her calf and then slowly slid up, thumb ghosting in the hollow of her knee. Oh no he didn’t. Banchina put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back.

“Your costume is in the closet. Usopp come back from the stove, please.”

Yasopp frowned at her as she stood and skirted around him to prevent her son from trying to bake his boat. Usopp wasn’t very happy at being picked up again, but tolerated it, venting his frustrations with his tiny white teeth on the poor hull. Banchina busied herself with tidying up, catching a glimpse of angled shoulderblades moving under dark skin and the pale moon of a rather fine rump that was perhaps not quite as pale as it should be. It seemed though that he caught her looking because he flexed one cheek, then the other.

“You know I can crack walnuts with this thing,” he said.

“Get dressed!” Banchina said, throwing a dishtowel at him and knowing it would be more effective if the laugh hadn’t crept into her voice.

“Get dessed!” Usopp said. “Dess dess sulry.”

“Well I can’t argue stand up to both of you,” Yasopp said with an exaggerated sigh. Soon enough there was a Mr. Scarecrow standing in front of her, some coils of hair springing out of his floppy conical hat that she’d salvaged from the junk shop.

“Hmm,” Yasopp said as he stood in front of the mirror, stroking his chin. What was he up to?

“How do you like it?” Banchina asked, playing her role in whatever ridiculous charade he had planned.

“I just feel like it’s missing something.”

“You’d better not be stalling.” Since that just occurred to her and if he was. Yasopp held up his hands, turning toward her.

“No, I swear! No stalling here!” Then his hand was back on his chin. “But you know, I think I’ve figured out just what it is.”

“You have.”

“Lipstick.”

“Lipst—” She should have seen it coming, she really should have. But she didn’t and the next moment, Yasopp’s arm was around her waist and his mouth was pressing down on hers. Banchina put a hand on his shoulder to push him away, but then his lips softened, parting. She felt her hand relax, dig into the soft cloth, despite tasting of Apple Brandy on his breath. She was in trouble— and might have been lost had Usopp not then proceeded to drop his boat on Yasopp’s foot.

Banchina gasped as he pulled away and then couldn’t stop the laugh that left her as he hopped up and down on one foot, looking more like a scarecrow than ever.

“Dess, Dada,” Usopp said sternly.

“I can’t dress any more than this,” Yasopp said. “Also I think you broke my foot.”

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” Banchina said, moving closer to him. “And anyway you deserved it, Mr. Scarecrow.”

“For what?” Yasopp said, foot forgotten as he leaned in. Banchina reached up and ran the pad of her thumb under his lower lip, nudging some lipstick away.

“For being so tempting.” And then before he could take advantage of that, turned away and grabbed the pie before heading out the door. “Get Usopp’s things, would you?” she called over her shoulder, happier than she had any right to be as she felt his gaze following her out of the door. Perhaps she couldn’t crack walnuts with her…assets… but she did well enough.

*****

One thing that Banchina both admired and was frustrated with about Syrup was their pulled back approach to having a festival. She hadn’t even known what a Harvest Festival could be like until Yasopp had taken her to the one in Maplebreak when they’d first started dating. There had been lights strewn everywhere, pumpkins grinning out of corners, beer flowing, people singing, more than a few games and the boats—! The boats had been lit up, too, sitting in the harbor, lights shining from the rigging on the partiers below.

Of course that would considerably overstimulate Usopp who would likely end up crying snottily into her costume before the night had even begun and been grumpy the rest of it. Syrup’s Harvest Festival was just about right for a town its size and…respectability. There were a few lights. A few pumpkins. A banquet of baked goods that could rival no one else, even those party goers in Maplebreak who wouldn’t know a good pie if it hit them— Tasteful if understated costumes. No singing and very little beer. Though there was a kind of costume contest for the kids that had been a few years running. Usopp was still too young to enter it, though when he was older, he was going to put up some stiff competition if she had anything to say about it.

“Syrup really knows how to throw a party,” Yasopp said as they approached the square, not loud enough for anyone to heard over the young men singing popular, yet tasteful songs on a raised platform—several young girls watching them with heart struck eyes, though no one in their age bracket which was perhaps what they’d been hoping.

“Try not to fall asleep,” Banchina said, and wished she was teasing. Even before they got into the square people were stopping to watch them. Some even whispering behind their hands. It couldn’t have been that long since Yasopp had been in Syrup, could it? Yasopp was starting to feel the pressure, too, hands already in his pockets, shoulders starting to slump a bit and a hard look in his eyes under the shadow of his hat.

She wished he could just bear it and brush it off like he did so much else. She wished they wouldn’t look at him like that. She wished he could just be a man, a husband and a father, enjoying the festival with his family. But wishes weren’t horses and they all had to deal with the world as it came. She steeled her shoulders, trying to smile at all the looks sent her way.

“The kid’s section looks better this year!” Banchina said brightly, perhaps too much. She couldn’t even recognize herself in her voice. Yasopp grunted. It was true, though. Someone had made a little pumpkin cart, too big for Usopp. Some older kids were getting cotton candy— though it was too late for Usopp to have any, and older kids than that were playing a dart game. There were no toddlers, though, and so nothing really a toddler could reasonably do.

“Fish!” Usopp said, tugging at her sleeve and pointing. “Fish, Mama, fish!”

“Those aren’t fish, sweetheart, those are rubber ducks,” Banchina said, glancing briefly at the tub where the toys floated serenely, ready to be hooked by passing kids hoping to win prizes.

“Fish!” Usopp whined.

“In a moment, Mama has to deliver her pie.”

“You sure you want to approach the dragon lair?” Yasopp muttered.

“What?” Banchina looked at the bake table and saw no one but the Matrons of the town arrayed behind it, in various costumes, but no dr… oh… No he didn’t mean that literally did he. “Yasopp, please. Don’t start.”

“Fish! Wan fish!” Usopp was struggling now in earnest, trying to push away from her with one hand and pulling at her hair with the other. He was wiggling so much he nearly upset her pie.

“I said not now!” Banchina said sharply. Usopp stopped and looked at her, his lower lip trembling and she felt horrible. He just wanted to have fun. What little fun he could have here.

“I’ll get him,” Yasopp said. “Come here, baby butt, Papa’s got you.” Banchina reluctantly let Usopp go to his father, gently pulling his tiny fist from her hair.

“Be careful,” Banchina said as she was finally freed. “He’s going through an oral phase.”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Yasopp said, waving a hand. “I can at least do this.”

“Alright.” She took a deep breath and let it out and then kissed Usopp’s head in apology, immediately smudging the lipstick away before squishing his baby cheeks. “You be good for your Dada okay?”

“Pbbt,” he said, blowing bubbles at her. Oh, he was so precious. Was any baby more beautiful than hers? She gave him a little hug and stood on tiptoe to give Yasopp a kiss on the cheek, murmuring.

“I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” he said. Banchina offered him a quick smile and then headed toward the bakery table with squared shoulders and a determined stride. The dra… _Matrons_ were talking to one another, and not necessarily about her. There was no need to be paranoid. Even if they did break apart as soon as she came into hearing distance.

“Well,” said Mrs. Pleco the leader of the Syrup Village Holiday Committee of which Banchina was a reluctant member. “Glad you could both make it this year.

“Both of you!”  echoed Mandarin Pleco, her daughter-in-law, somewhat breathlessly. “I haven’t seen Yasopp in such a long time.”

“Yes, he’s been keeping himself busy,” Banchina said, unwrapping her pumpkin pie and setting in a place where it wouldn’t overwhelmed by the smells of the desserts around it.

“I’m sure,” Mrs. Pleco said, giving Mandarin a dry look. Mrs. Grocer, Mrs. Pleco’s cousin, snorted and arranged a selection of tarts pointedly. Mrs. Pleco pointedly ignored her. Yasopp had been wrong. This wasn’t a dragon lair. It was a war zone. It might be a little better if the Syrup Village Holiday Committee didn’t consist of the four of them, but Mrs. Pleco liked to be exclusive.

Banchina had started out as a project for Mrs. Pleco, she was aware. The older woman had taken Banchina under her wing— and in some ways Banchina would always be grateful for that. It had been good to sit in Mrs. Pleco’s house, learning how to sew or improving her baking when her own house had grown too lonely to bear.  Sometimes she’d been given a task, other times just allowed to sit, almost always given advice about one thing or another… Mrs. Pleco had even tried to steer her, sometimes subtly, sometimes not so much, in the direction of her only son Tomatillo. And it had almost worked. But on the day she was to set out on her first date with Tomatillo, she’d been kidnapped right from her doorway by some idiot on a bike and she’d had no choice but to cling to his neck screaming as they’d careened down the hill.

“Banchina, are you even listening?” Mrs. Pleco said and Banchina blinked, suddenly aware she’d spaced out and, even more embarrassing, that she was still smiling. She straightened and organized her expression.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said I would understand if you wanted to go back to your husband.”

“What?” What a strange thing for Mrs. Pleco to say. Was Banchina still daydreaming somehow? Mrs. Pleco pressed her lips together as if annoyed at having to explain herself.

“To… Well… He’s… _Men_ aren’t the most responsible of creatures.”

“Neither are some others,” Mrs. Grocer muttered, earning another glower. Banchina felt her gut tighten as she realized what Mrs. Pleco meant. She should get back to Yasopp, if only to keep him company and she certainly didn’t want to spend all her time here. But she wouldn’t give Mrs. Pleco the pleasure.

“They’ll be fine,” Banchina said as carelessly as she could, slipping around the table and tying on an apron. She wouldn’t stay here all night, she decided, but she’d certainly make a point. Mrs. Pleco gave her an uncertain look and seemed about to argue but fortunately Mandarin spoke up.

“Can I take a break then?”

“No you certainly may not,” Mrs. Pleco said with a sniff. “We’re going to have the rush soon so you just stay put. And _you_ stop chortling under your breath.” This to Mrs. Grocer. “I can hear you, you know.”

Mrs. Grocer fell silent, and for the moment at least, a truce seemed to have been called— though judging by Mandarin’s sulking it wouldn’t last long. Though Banchina handed out baked goods and accepted beri from various townspeople, she wished another war would start. Or that her pride didn’t make it so things were so boring. It didn’t help that nearly everyone who came up either tried to get a curious look at her or talk to her about Yasopp. He’d become something of a curiosity, she realized. But the kind that ended up on wanted posters and execution stands rather than as a person.

She bore it and deflected their comments as best she could, searching the milling crowds for her small family. After a while Yasopp and Usopp were nowhere to be seen and she couldn’t help but worry about it, even as she felt a little guilty in the process. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Yasopp but… it was just…

“I have to say I’m proud of you,” Mrs. Pleco said abruptly, replacing an empty plate of cookies with a tin of apple pie. Banchina blinked, distracted a little though that didn’t stop her from looking, hoping for any sight of them.

“Oh…?” shes said faintly. Was that them by the ducks again?

“Of course I am,” Mrs. Pleco nodded deeply. “It takes a lot of work to make something out of nothing.”

Nothing? Banchina fought past the flash of hot anger. Getting angry wouldn’t solve anything. And perhaps she was misunderstanding Mrs. Pleco somehow.

“Well, you know.” She gestured and then said under her breath. “He’s not exactly from around here.”

“He has been from around here for ten years,” Banchina said as evenly as she could, even as she peered intently at the shapes at what might be her husband and son before deciding yes, yes they were. Good.

“But he is a bit… well… rough around the edges.  But bringing him out tonight was a good first step in smoothing him out.”

“Smoothing him out?” That must be wrong. She didn’t want Yasopp smoothed out. She just wanted Yasopp to be a family with her and Usopp. Syrup may not be Maplebreak, but it was the best place for raising a family. It was where she had been raised and where Usopp had been born. How was that in any way smoothing him out?

“Yes, that’s what I said. Honestly you’re turning into Mandarin.” Mrs. Pleco patted her shoulder. “I didn’t mean that. I’ve been short tempered lately. But the point is you have done a good job. I know some people are reluctant for change, but I for one welcome fresh blood so long as they behave themselves.”

Reluctant for change? Fresh blood? Yasopp had been here! But…what good would arguing with Mrs. Pleco do honestly? Nothing. You couldn’t move a mountain no matter how hard you pushed.

“In fact,” Mrs. Pleco said, leaning in and murmuring conspiratorially. “Keep an eye out and I’ll see if I don’t have a position for him as a clerk in a few years.”

“How kind of you,” Banchina said, forcing a smile. It was kind. A clerk didn’t make great money but it was better than what Yasopp was making now which was close to nothing. Also a clerk met advancement usually.

“Of course he’ll have to clean up a bit and stop slouching,” Mrs. Pleco said. “And we’ll have to see about getting him some decent clothes. Maybe a suit?”

“I can’t see it,” Banchina said with a faint laugh. Yasopp in a suit. Yasopp in a suit wasn’t… Yasopp. He was someone she didn’t even know. What was going on here? It felt as if some boulder were rolling along behind her and she could see it coming but couldn’t move out of the way.

“Well I have every faith in you,” Mrs. Pleco said. “You know a lot of people thought you’d come to a bad end, and who can blame them when your mother died at such a crucial age for a young girl. But I said to myself, that girl has potential…”

Banchina tuned the story out. She’d heard it before and anyway, something was wrong. Yasopp made a violent movement as if he was catching something. Had Usopp tripped? Was there something wrong with him? Had something happened?

“BANCHINA!” the note in Yasopp’s voice was so desperate that Banchina was moving before she even thought about it, vaulting over the people and tearing down the street, pushing aside the crowd that had gathered and found Yasopp kneeling on the ground, holding Usopp in his lap who was clutching his neck with tiny hands.

“Give him to me!” she said, flipping him over and bracing him against her leg as she thumped his back between his small shoulder blades with the heel of her hand. _Please_ , she thought. _Please. Please!_

“I just looked away for a second. I swear! I was trying to get the hook it fell in the tub and then… I didn’t see what it was but it was just a second!”

“Okay, shut up please.” She couldn’t listen to him right now. She couldn’t listen to anything but her own heart beating. She gave him one more solid thunk. Usopp gagged and something fell wetly on the ground. He was silent for a single terrifying second and then started to cry. Oh thank heaven. Thank _heaven._ She pulled him against her shoulder, shusshing him as he clung to her shirt, patting his hair. Oh her poor baby.

“It’s alright,” she murmured. “You’re alright. Shhh. Shh, now.” She rocked him back and forth, murmuring the words to a lullabye her mother used to sing to her. “ _There_ _’s a little boat,  Sailing out from the harbour, Going out to sea, Going out to sea._ ”

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied with yourself!” Mrs. Pleco said, interrupting her, interrupting everything. “Your carelessness nearly cost your own child his life!”

At first Banchina thought Mrs. Pleco was talking to her, but then saw the terrified openness of Yasopp’s face, the tears standing in his eyes and running down his cheeks. He believed her. He _believed_ her. The woman was looming over them, shaking her finger in his face.

“That’s what you get for being a ruffian and having no sense of self control.”

Banchina slowly rose, holding Usopp to her and petting his back, using him to anchor herself so she didn’t do something they would all come to regret to Mrs. Pleco’s red mottled face. Very carefully she placed herself between her husband and Mrs. Pleco’s waving finger and when she spoke, her voice was very quiet and controlled, the world balanced on a pinhead.

“Yasopp may not be the best citizen Syrup has ever seen. He may not be native born. He may not even be respectable. But he cares for our son, and he does his best and at least he’s not a complete and utter _snob_.”

Mrs. Pleco flinched as if Banchina had punched her. But it needed to be said. More needed to be said, but it wasn’t up to Banchina to say it. She was done with this. With everything. She let go of Usopp long enough to grab Yasopp’s hand and tug him impatiently to his feet, before supporting Usopp again who had stopped crying and was now hiccoughing against her neck. Once more she looked Mrs. Pleco in the eye.

“If you would please send the doctor up to the house I would be grateful.”

And then she began walking, people parting for her uncertain, everyone quiet and watching. Let them watch. Let them wag their tongues about it as much as they liked. She was proud of herself in a kind of twisted way as she left the square, Yasopp dogging her heels. She was even more proud that she held back the hot ragged tears until they were in the darkness outside of Syrup, lit only by the moon— full and bright as she thought it would be.

“I’m sorry, Banchina,” Yasopp said, sounding so sad, so broken. “Look, I’ll do better okay? I’ll try to fit in.  I won’t got to Maplebreak anymore. Hell, I’ll even get a suit or something.”

“No!” A bolt of sour fear went through her and she turned to Yasopp who looked even more broken than he sounded. “No…” She reached up and stroked his cheek, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his cheekbone, looking into his hurt eyes. “I don’t want you to be anyone but you Yasopp. That’s who I love. Rough edges and all.” And here she was crying again but it was alright.

“Ban-chan…” he reached up, covering her hand with his, but not removing it. “I can do it. I don’t have to be rough edged Yasopp. Stop being so easy on me.”

She shook her head.

“Maybe I’m selfish, but please let me be easy on you. I can’t bear to see them put you in their box. I can’t bear to lose the Yasopp that I know and love because some people don’t approve.” She didn’t think she’d ever get out of that box herself. She had been hammered in soundly and was still too afraid to step out of it. Though she loved Yasopp she needed the village, she needed everyone in it, even Mrs. Pleco. The people that had known her parents. Her heritage. The soil which she’d grown up on. The earth which bound her.

But she needed to know that there was freedom, too, if ever she wanted it. The freedom of being whomever she wanted. The freedom of the wild sea and daring bike rides down steep hills. She needed her Yasopp to be her Yasopp. He watched her for a long moment, eyes shining with wet in the moonlight, then pressed a kiss to the heel of her hand, the palm of her hand, before wrapping his arms around them both.

“I love you, Ban-chan. More than anything.”

“I love you, too,” she murmured, and rested her ear against his chest, where she could hear his heart beating like the steady rhythm of the sea.

 


	5. Just A Little Sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to fight the ennui that's starting to bloom since Ray's year long departure, Shakky attends Sabody Park's Lantern Carnivale in order to inject a little excitement in her life. A little adventure finds her instead, and a little of what she's been waiting for all along.

Shakky lights a cigarette and stares bleakly over the near empty bar. It is a quiet night. Quieter than usual. Most ruffians have gone ahead to Sabody to enjoy the festivities, either to be terrifed by them or by their bad taste. Or to prey on those unwary who cross the shadowy places, hidden from harsh cheery light. She must be really bad off if she’s getting poetic, Shakky thinks with a rueful smile. She sets herself on her side of the bar and idly pours herself more whiskey. The melting ice clinks in the glass.

A lonely sound.

 A scruffy man in a ragged coat looks up and snorts and goes back to his ragged paper, several weeks out of date. There is no news. At least none she cares about other than the occasional rumor not even fit for an ant trail; and endless speculation on the whereabouts of this, that, or the other person. Speculation but no leads and even that is dying into the aether. Honestly, she doesn’t care about this, that or the other person. The world has long since passed her by and she’s been content with that.

Or so she had thought.

That damn rubber kid.

That _damn_ hat.

She smiles to herself. Even if she wanted to be mad…

And she didn’t…

And she’s not…

Even if he has been the only thing to completely capture Ray’s attention for so long. A woman or women could come and go, but give a man a dream or hope for a future and he was off sailing, throwing himself against the wiles of the world with nary a care for his age or the politics which would swallow him up if he stepped wrong, no matter how strong he was. But he is still disaffected enough to stay out of it for the most part, at least she hopes so. She is not ready to be a widow yet. Then she will truly be old.

And perhaps age is nearer on her doorstep than she thought, because she can feel herself getting morose and sentimental. That wouldn’t do. So what is the alternative? Perhaps some exercise? It is the Lantern Carnivale at the Park tonight. Plenty of lowlifes are bound to attend- - and even if she has nothing to do, perhaps she will have something to watch. Shakky bolts back the whiskey gracefully and sets the crystal glass in the sink before eying her sole customer.

“Last call,” she says, noting he has one or two gulps of beer left in his glass. She’ll give him another if he asks for it. It wouldn’t hurt and it’s business after all.

“It’s early,” the scruffy man says in a creaky voice, revealing himself to be a scruffy _old_ man by the looks of him. Old even compared to other old men she knows. She tries not to look too hard at the drooping of tired eyes or the soft lines and sinew of what must have been hard muscle once upon a time. To his comment, however, she shrugs with her palms up and begins to clean what little there is in preparation to close.

The old man grumbles in an old man way, but doesn’t put up a fight, only shuffling the paper to the last page and gulping at his beer. Maybe he doesn’t have any fight left in him and she’s not sure how to feel about that. The old man leaves and she locks the door behind him, wipes down the tables, washes the glasses and puts them away. Then she goes to get her jacket from the back room, the part that connects to the rest of the little house. From here she can see she’s left the bedroom door open a sliver and a blue square of the coverlet has been lit by moonlight seeping down through the mangrove branches.

It is a big bed.

An empty bed.

She’s become acclimatized to it. The cool sheets on either side. The lack of weight. The quiet. She is not so far gone that she can count how long it’s been on fingers and toes. Most of the time she barely even notices. She’s never been a woman whose needed a man. Hell. She’s never been a woman who much _wanted_  a man, which was why her and Ray worked so well. But lately, here and there, now and again, she’s been experiencing a small soft ache in the center of her chest. A feeling between need and want. Something that she can’t identify and isn’t keen on trying. At least not now.

She really is getting too sentimental.

Shakky smirks to herself— at herself— and takes a drag on her cigarette as she heads out into the night.

 

****

The Carnivale is in full swing by the time Shakky arrives at the entrance to Sabody. It is full night. Orange lights with grinning pumpkins and skeletons in white suits litter the thoroughfare. Booths have been set up for all manner of grim games, made much more bloody as the night deepened. Bob for apples but watch for the loose teeth, loose change, loose eyeballs floating in murky tomato colored water. Throw the ax and try to hit the target, no please sir, don’t throw them at passersby they are indeed sharp and we can’t afford the liability— and so forth.

With the edgier games, came the edgier crowd, some drunk, others pretending to be, and a few sober, knife sharp and cunning. Though the normal park goers, young couples, naive teenagers, and so on, hadn’t yet been edged out, and were strolling along, trailing balloons like the small children they could still afford to be and laughing to one another over the music. There were vultures even among them, but experience as well as a small nudge of haki told Shakky the difference between the two. 

She stops to watch a small herd of punks dressed as Whitebeards go by, lead by their “captain”, gruesomely painted and bearing his wounds. She had little love for the old man and gave him only the respect that was due him for carving his own path on the seas and yet she couldn’t help but feel turned off by this display of children masquerading as people they didn’t know or couldn’t know. The prat falls. The fake dying scenes. The hitting on girls in their path.  Callous and unrepentant, even though it has been over a year since his death. Where last year there was a pall that seemed to hang over the world, already things had moved on and death was enough to joke about. Give her vultures any day.

And now she is brooding. Another sign of the times perhaps. Shakky sighs to herself and tries to find something to capture her attention, at least for a little while. Those that recognize her and don’t have a beef with her, few and far between that are either these days, call her name and she gives them a paltry greeting and waved hand before moving on. There is simply nothing interesting here. The games are cheap. The thrills are non-existent. And even the food smells terrible.

But oh, here is something. Not too far away and under the uncertain light of a pumpkin bubble lamp, a cretin posing as a fresh faced and beautiful young man is attempting to lure some ladies-in-waiting away. They giggle and demur and can’t be much older than fourteen or fifteen. Babes in the woods all of them. Whereas young and beautiful has to be in his mid-twenties at least.

 She watches the drama unfold from the shadows of the back of a booth, wondering that innocence was still in ample supply these days. She couldn’t imagine herself ever having been so— and she certainly hadn’t at that age. At that age she’d been skidding along blood soaked decks with a saber in one hand and a pistol in the other. That had been in her ostentatious period. These young things in gauze and well-tailored flounce had probably, at most, skidded across a well waxed parquet floor, or perhaps an iced over lake in elegant skates. Where she had been able to see the rotten eggs behind the kindest smile, these girls couldn’t seem to notice the wolf’s teeth even as he fairly breathed down their necks.

Inevitably he invited them to some shadowy bar, a short distance away from the park proper and tucked in between two large buildings. Inevitably they followed. Shakky took the time to light another cigarette, feeling a faint weighted feeling. She’d been looking for this kind of trouble, true. A rare enough thing for her but a good exercise to get her out of her own head. Still, it always disappointed her to find it. It only proves that what they say is true, the world may change but people stay the same.

Shakky follows along, not bothering to sneak because that’s always the first sign of suspicion, but keeping to the shadows. The noise and chaos of the festival falls behind and the endless popping of bubbles can be heard now over the music, though they are not that far from the park.  She can see the closed walls now and the bar just beyond it. The lit sign above the door reading Heaven’s Way in blue curled letters, too elegant to belong above that greasy door. It’s the glistening entrance to a spider web. Being part spider herself, she can appreciate it. 

As she enters the long alleyway leading up to the bar, something flickers just on the edges of her attention, but that’s forgotten in the more interesting action of one of the flouncier girls balking.

“It looks strange,” she says in a breathy voice. “It is strange, isn’t it? This kind of place here.”

“It does look a little odd,” says the beautiful young man, beautifully. “But because it’s out of the way, the patrons are…select.” The way he says it drips with so much oil, Shakky is almost compelled to check the bottom of her shoes.

“Isn’t that the same line you used last week?” Shakky says, her voice catching the acoustics of the buildings nicely. The girls startle and half turn to eye her like does before a hunter. The young wolf has much the same expression, but it quickly smoothes into something like pleasant bafflement.

“I’m sorry? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Shakky says, folding an arm across herself and casually resting the elbow of the other on it as she blows out a stream of smoke. “The other girls were much prettier.”

The ladies-in-waiting blanch and pull together. The wolf’s eyes darken for an instant but he flicks his attention back to them with an apologetic smile.

“Don’t listen to her. That old bag’s just jealous.”

The girls look from him to her as if expecting a rebuttal. Shakky shrugs.

“You think so?”

“We shouldn’t do this, Chrissiania,” says the smarter of the flounce sisters. “We should go back. M-Mother and Father will be waiting.”

“But what about the night we’ve planned together,” says the wolf, now with an edge of desperation that the girls can sense. “You can’t just leave.”

“Well, we must,” says the smarter flounce sister with growing confidence. “Come Chrissiania, Annalinalou.” She grabs the others by the elbows and, almost as one, they flounce back the way they had come at a clipped pace. Shakky watches them go with a smirk. She really is getting old. And rusty. With this approach she didn’t even get a chance to fleece them before they were on their merry way. Ah well, next time perhaps.

As she looks away, she notes a shape lurking by the corner of the alley and a faint shock sparks through her.

But she is distracted by the wolf finally showing his teeth. She can feel it prickling along her neck even before he speaks.

“You heinous bitch,” he growls, a long knife suddenly appearing glinting in his hand. He comes at her in the next beat, amateurishly going for an overhand strike which, aside from being easy to defend against, makes little sense with their comparative heights. She grabs his knife arm, pressing her thumb into the pressure point at his wrist, and then, very serenely, knees him in the balls. When she was very young, she used to do it hard and fast. Get in, strike, get away. Later on in life, she found it very gauche and a cheap trick besides. It is still a cheap trick to be sure, but there’s something almost artistic about it. The brief softness of it against her leg, the way it offers the barest of resistance. What a prize a dick is and how easily damaged. No wonder men treasure it so.

The man collapses with a whimper, curling in on himself like a bug. A chuckle from the shadows from the mouth of the alley drives all thoughts from her save the tingle running down her spine. Even worse for her composition, the voice that accompanies it.

“That’s a nostalgic scene.”

 Sentimental old woman or not, Shakky manages to fight down the smile that dances at the corner of her lips and the excitement that trembles her fingers like butterflies wings. Instead she lights a cigarette and takes a long smooth draw before casting a look over her shoulder where she can see his shape now, darker against the darkness, except for the glint of light on his glasses when he moves.

“A drunken bum?” she says mildly.

“Something like that,” he says, moving out of the shadows completely and into a slant of white light. He is shirtless and wet, holding his shirt carelessly over his shoulder while his white hair, curled from the wet and the humidity, clings to his shoulders and neck. It is breathtaking to see him so she smokes instead, not trusting herself to speak. The smile won’t be so contained and sneaks out a little.

“You’re late,” she says, absently flicking the edge of her teeth with her tongue. “Should I throw you out?”

“Shakky,” he says, and she nearly startles as he closes the distance between them. The air around them feels dense with electricity and the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Cruel man. How is she supposed to react to the active implications of something which had long since been a passive understanding? What is she supposed to do with the electricity creeping under her skin and zinging through her fingertips and along her nerves. She can feel the air on her lips and the warmth of his body so close, even dampened by water.  Still, she refuses to be beaten by anything, even if it is compounding sexual tension. She tilts her head back ever so slightly and offers him a smile.

“You’ve found me.”

He grins, showing teeth, and she has enough time to feel a wave of raw desire before she has the cool brick wall at her back and Ray’s warmth at her front, his mouth over hers and his talented hands exploring the length of her back. She makes a noise she hasn’t made in years and nearly drops her cigarette from her fingers. She manages to hold on somehow and grab onto his shoulder with the other hand, feeling the muscle underneath it.  
  
He tastes like brine and adventure. Like the young man she’s never met, revisiting a burst of youth that’s never been his own. It flickers and flames like sunbeams over the edges of her limited haki, warming her bones, stirring her blood, and she presses back into him, letting the cigarette fall finally so she can cup the back of his neck and for just a moment she remember what it feels to be on a sun soaked deck in the middle of a playful sea.  
Ah, Ray…  
The words nearly leave her mouth as he moves to brush his lips over her jaw and neck. But she has more control than that and lives to play all games to the end. Where is the fun in giving in completely?

“And how is your Pirate King?” she asks teasingly, blasphemously almost, tilting her head to the side to give him better purchase and shivering only minutely at the brush of teeth against her skin before she feels the smirk there.

“Reckless, determined, dumber than a brick.” But he says those words with fondness. “He’ll make it or die spectacularly.”

She hopes he does. She hopes he rocks the very foundations of the earth if only because Rayleigh seems to be so amused by it. But also for his own sake. For what she has heard he’s done. For what she has seen him do. The world could use a little rocking.

It seems to be rocking a little now, as Ray’s hand begins a lazy trail up her ribs despite the fact of where they are, the giddy sinister music coming from the Park making everything surreal. Here and now? Are they so young to risk it?

But no, a burst of laughter pulls Ray’s attention as the young wolf skitters into Heaven’s Way. To make excuses for his mistake perhaps? To send his superiors after them? She decides she doesn’t much care as she sees the pale faces of other hand-maidens who do not seem to want to enjoy the festivities before the door shuts and takes the light with it.

“I feel like stirring up a little trouble,” Ray says, his thumb gliding over her ribs but his attention elsewhere. It’s like him but not. Adventure has rubbed off on him, grabbed him by the blood— and she has to admit, her, too. Still she does have enough sense to know what is important.

“So long as we finish what trouble we started,” she says, leaning forward to nip his ear sharply in punishment and so he’ll remember. He chuckles and sets her down, saying darkly:

“As if I could forget.”

It’s decidedly unfair how easy it is for him to get the upper hand.

Not that he has to know he has it.

She pretends it doesn’t affect her at all. Lights her last cigarette, glad she still has one, and they walk to the bar side by side. It feels odd and nostalgic at once. He puts his shirt on, leaving it open but his arms free. As they enter, she arranges her face in the blandest expression she can --though it is difficult to maintain as the barkeep, who she knows through reputation and, it seems, vice versa— immediately stops pouring and bolts into the back room.

They sit at a table near a couple of thugs who are watching them with increasing alarm, and smiles a thanks as Ray confiscates drinks that had been heading toward the thugs’ table. The young wolf, she notes, has found his pack, and they are sauntering over with all the arrogance of youth, an idea of a pirate symbol sketched across their clothing. Rayleigh’s mouth tilts upward as they approach his back and she shifts her knee against his. He brushes back and she can’t wait until they are brushing a little more once again.

The leader of the young wolves unsheathes a saber in a quiet whisper. The bar goes still. The thugs go to join the barkeeper and a few others finish their drinks and beat a hasty retreat to the corner of the room. Shakky rests her chin on her fist as the blade slides against Rayleigh’s neck, noticing how he twitches just a fraction so it doesn’t actually cut, not even one of the hairs still plastered there from wet.

“Your woman did a lot of damage,” says the pup. “I hope you’re planning to pay for it.”

“Sorry, flat broke,” Ray says. Isn’t he always? The pup rears back a bit, nose flaring and the others come around them in a ragged half circle, cracking their knuckles. Elsewhere come the sounds of chairs scraping the floor and feet moving away. Some enterprising person has even opened a window letting in the faint music from the Park. Surprise accompaniment then! This _is_ going to be dramatic.

“You better rethink that,” the pup says. “You’re a little too old to be causing trouble with us.”

“Oh? What do you think, Shakky,” Ray says, lifting the tankard of rum. “Am I too old?”

“Far too old,” Shakky says, tapping her rum tankard against his. “So don’t take too long, dear.” She meets his eyes. “You do have another engagement.”

The look he gives her is enough to make anyone melt into their chair. She is only glad that her backbone is made of sterner stuff... and so she sends him one right back, challenging, waiting, wanting — for all the things they are and all the things they are yet to be.

 And maybe it helps. Because in the end, it doesn’t take very long at all.

 

 


End file.
